


i've stumbled onto sounds i wasn't able to make alone

by zerotransfat



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Music, Annoyed Rinkmates, Composer!Yuuri, Emotional Katsuki Yuuri, F/F, Gen, Getting Together, He Out to Get that Japanese Booty, Love at First Sight, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, RIP Yakov, Victor is still a figure skater, and never looked back, but he fell in love with the man behind the music, just enough to bullshit so if it gets really egregious just tell me, musician!AU, vague knowledge of composing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-17
Updated: 2017-01-17
Packaged: 2018-09-09 03:26:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 20,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8873962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zerotransfat/pseuds/zerotransfat
Summary: Victor listened to him play, mesmerized by the song that he had known so well transformed into something else, something softer. An answer to something he didn’t know he was looking for, a question he didn’t know he was asking.And then, before the last note of Stammi Vicino could fade away, the man at the piano took a deep breath and started a new song that he has never heard before.(Yakov pushes Victor for another season, and Victor doesn’t really have a good reason to refuse. He’s been having trouble finding his free program music when he meets Yuuri, a composer who can’t seem to finish this one song.)





	1. Call 1:  「A faint clap of thunder,

**Author's Note:**

> Here I am in AU Land, ignoring episode 11 until next week comes.

“Vitya, has your composer friend _still_ not gotten back to you?” Yakov roared as they were getting of the ice. “What on earth are you doing?!”

Victor only smiled as he untied his skates. “Piero called off his commission; he can’t manage his workload. I’ve been meeting his recommendations but no one’s really grabbed my attention yet.”

Yakov grumbled, disgusted. “This is really important, Vitya! We go through this every single year and yet you never seem to have it on time. You shave years off my life every time!”

“Yakov, you can’t just rush _inspiration_ ,” he pouted. “I’ll find the music in time, don’t worry about that. I was going to meet another person today about it.”

“You’d better. The deadline is coming up fast; sometimes I get the feeling you leave it up till the last minute to mess with me.”

“Oh, how hurt I am to be so doubted!” Victor said, clutching at his chest theatrically. “Yakov, you wound me so deeply. How ever shall I go on if you say something so hurtful! I would _never_ do anything my dear, dear coach would disapprove of!”

Mila and Georgi were choking back guffaws in the background as Yakov huffed, amused despite himself. “That’s a load of bullshit and don’t you deny it, Vitya.”

Victor smiled. “Oh, is it? I’ll get the music in time, don’t worry. Have a good one!” Mila waved back on the rink.

 

* * *

 

By the time he walked outside the rink, the rain that was falling all morning had grown heavier. Digging around in his bag for an umbrella, Victor looked at his phone and cursed. He was already running late for his meeting, and it didn’t look like the rain was going to let up anytime soon.

He was halfway to the studio when Piero’s friend texted him, saying that his apartment got flooded due to a burst pipe.

Victor could only sigh and pulled over to the parking lot to text back, reassuring the man that it was okay. There went his plans for the rest of his afternoon however, and suddenly he was in an unfamiliar part of town with no concrete plan of where to go.

Victor looked around at the buildings, curious; to be perfectly honest he’s never really been here before. His eye caught on a sign, written in both Russian and Japanese _—Okukawa Dance and Music Studio_.

Maybe they’ll let him stretch in the corner and get out of the rain.

When Victor walked through door he was suddenly hit by the coziness of the studio—this place was almost the exact opposite of the precise clean lines of Lilia Baranovskaya’s workplace. Victor took in the warm tones of the wood, the worn floorboards, the waist-high barre and instantly felt at home.

The first two rooms he looked into had no one in them, but someone was playing music somewhere, a slow tune echoing in his ears.

He followed the faint sounds of the old piano through the narrow hallway, curious. The music they were playing was so familiar, so clear in it’s emotion that Victor couldn’t help but be drawn to the source.

Who could make music like that? Who could play the song that Victor won yet another gold medal with, has listened to for _months,_ who could convey the emotions Victor wasn’t able to convey in just the music like _that?_

Victor looked through the door, and there he was, sitting at the piano. The young Asian man had his eyes closed behind his glasses, pressing the keys by muscle memory alone.

Victor listened to him play, mesmerized by the song that he had known so well transformed into something _else_ , something softer. An answer to something he didn’t know he was looking for, a question he didn’t know he was asking.

And then, before the last note of _Stammi Vicino_ could fade away, the man at the piano took a deep breath and started a new song that he has never heard before.

It started with a soft cascade of notes, building over each other. It was gentle, but somehow also a little lonely. There was a quiet, fragile strength in it, and suddenly Victor knew he wanted that. He wanted that song, that sound. He wanted to know this man, wanted to know how he could play music like that.

He would like nothing better than to skate on the ice to that music.

(In his heart of hearts, Victor wanted whatever that man would give him. He finally felt alive after the first time in years, and he wasn’t going to let go, not of this song, not of this man.)

Five-time Grand Prix Champion and Russian national hero Victor Nikiforov took a deep breath, like preparing to jump, and opened the studio door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are so many more fics I should be working on, but whoop here I am.  
> Kudos to those who can eventually figure out where my chapter titles come from. (Hint: Gorgeous animation but also a quote of something much older.)  
> I am [here](http://copperpatina.tumblr.com/) on tumblr. You know the drill, come scream.  
> Imma die waiting for Weds, tbh.
> 
> EDIT: If it wasn't obvious, Yuuri is playing [Yuri On ICE](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LJttZ_Zfiw0) when they first meet.


	2. Call 2: Clouded skies,

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Victor gets Yuuri's number and essentially realizes that he has neglected life and love for too long.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. I've somehow done it.
> 
> Probably another chapter tomorrow, with my muse going as strong as it is. Let's see how long my stamina holds out.

Victor took three steps into the studio before the man looked up. His eyes widened behind his glasses and he abruptly stopped playing.

He watched, enthralled, as a bright blush spread across the bridge of the man's nose. “U-um, hello! You-you’re Victor Nikiforov!” The pianist squeaked, embarrassed.

“It’s very nice to meet you,” Victor smiled. “But you have me at a disadvantage, Mr….?”

The man ran a hand anxiously over his bangs; Victor couldn’t help follow those fingers through dark hair. “I-I’m Yuuri Katsuki! It’s nice to meet you!” Yuuri’s hand was warm against Victor’s skin as he nervously shook it. “C-can I help you?” Victor couldn't help but laugh a bit; Yuuri was a fan! How adorable.

“Well, I was originally going to meet someone in this part of town but they cancelled, so I was looking for somewhere to get out of the rain when I found this studio by chance. I heard you playing the piano, and here I am. What were you playing? I’ve never heard that song before.”

“I-it’s something I wrote on my own. I’m still working on it, and it’s not finished so…” The pianist fidgeted. “I don’t have a name for it yet.”

“It’s beautiful,” Victor said, and there must have been something terribly honest in his voice because Yuuri looked at him, brown eyes wide in astonishment. “Do you know when you will finish it?”

“I’ve— it’s hard to say, exactly. I’ve been working on it on and off for so long now, and it’s still not what I want it to be. I’ve been a little more inspired, lately, and I’ve changed a lot of things about this piece, and yet.” There was a slight frown on Yuuri’s face, the crease in between his eyebrows showing years of frustration, and Victor could empathize with that, the feeling that it's somehow not enough.

“I understand,” Victor said quietly. “It’s really quite something, though, and I’m already interested in using it for my free program this year. I’ve been looking into other composers, but your piece is...something special. Do you mind letting me hear what you have so far?”

Yuuri visibly paused. He took a deep breath, and nodded.

A moment of silence, and the music began again. Yuuri had his eyes closed, body swaying to the rhythm of the notes, and Victor could see in his mind’s eye how the routine would begin— _starting position on the ice, posture precise, and arms open as if reaching out to embrace something he was still searching for._

_Gliding backwards on the ice, a deep breath, and as that note rings on the air his blades leave the ice—_

 

“That’s...that’s all I have, so far.” Yuuri said, stopping. Victor opened his eyes; he wasn’t even aware that he had closed them in the first place. “It’s not very good; I really don’t think…”

“No, Yuuri. It’s perfect. It really is.” Victor hurried to reassure him. “I’ve been looking for music for so long, and never have I heard a piece that allows me to envision such a vivid program.” He reached for his bag, digging through it for his phone. “I’ve decided. I’m going to skate to this song. Can I have your contact information?”

“I _—_ I haven’t agreed to anything yet!” Yuuri almost shouted, and he blinked. Not many people would usually object to Victor using their music, but this seemingly mousy man was rejecting him right out of the gate. “I really don’t think my music is enough. What if I can’t get it right?”

“I have faith in your skills, Yuuri. If you can captivate me with only the beginning alone, the rest should surpass my wildest imaginations. Please,” Victor said, and he surprised even himself with how he sounded. After years in front of the cameras he thought all hints of sincerity had been stripped away from his demeanor but here Victor was, in an empty dance studio with his voice raw with honesty. “Please allow me to use your work!”

More awkward silence. Victor felt like the pounding of his heart would drown out even the sound of the pouring rain against the windows.

Yuuri was visibly in thought, his eyes not leaving the floor. With a shaky nod, he smiled and met his eyes. “A-alright. I’ll do it.”

“Really?” Victor could feel his lips stretching in a too-wide smile, the kind he had trained himself out of years ago; he could almost feel something changing the longer he was here with this unassuming man. “I’d be honoured.”

Yuuri flushed, and Victor can’t help but to admire how it spread behind the blue frames of his glasses. “No, it’s more of an honour for me. Y-you’re Victor Nikiforov! Anyone would be honoured.” He took Victor’s phone and typed in his number.

“I’ll definitely be in touch,” He said, ridiculously happy all because of a phone number. “I’m looking forward to working with you!”

Yuuri paused. Then, he smiled _—_ a small, beautiful thing, and Victor’s heart was pounding again. “Me too.”

 

* * *

 

By the time he made it home, it was starting to get dark out. The rain had already stopped, but there was still a hint of petrichor in the evening air.

Even before Victor opened the door, he could hear the scrabbling of dog nails on the tile of his floor, and he grinned. As soon as he went through the doorway, Makkachin jumped onto his hind legs to lick at Victor’s face, tail wagging madly.

He laughed and knelt down to put his face into Makkachin’s brown, curly fur, breathing in the familiar scent of dog.

In the silence of his too-spacious apartment and the company of his most trusted friend, Victor could afford to be honest.

“I think it’s fate, Makkachin. I’ve neglected life and love for so long, and now this happens.” There was a tightening in his throat that he couldn’t ignore, and he felt like he was going to burst from the sensation. “I can feel it. This is going to change everything.”

This was the first time he wanted to hold onto someone like this, the desire an all-consuming feeling in his heart.

Victor shuddered and put his arms around his dog. “I don’t think this is anything like lust, Makkachin. It’s nothing like before.”

Because whenever he remembered the sight of Yuuri’s thin fingers against the black and white keys, the gentle sound he produced, Victor was surprised all over again.

 _(He’s always loved surprises; they were the lifeblood of his performances, and therefore a part of him. He’s never been surprised like_ this _before.)_

“I don’t know what exactly it is I feel for Yuuri. I don't have a name for it yet,” Victor said, muffled against Makkachin, “but I’ve decided to call it love.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fastest chapter two I've ever written— I SWEAR I'LL FINISH THIS FIC EVEN IF IT KILLS ME
> 
> HaaaAAAA H Episode 5 callback! Not sure if the quality of this chapter is up to par, but please forgive me. I swear the chapter length will be longer next time, and there's gonna be more development of the plot.
> 
> Next chapter: baby's first date, involving disgusted Yurio, Minako wiggling her eyebrows suggestively at Yuuri, yet another downpour of rain, and relationship development. Makkachin will be there. Stay tuned!


	3. Call 3: Perhaps rain will come.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Baby's first date, none of Victor's friends are helpful, Minako is that one embarrassing family friend/aunt, Makkachin is MVP and the two make strides in their relationship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Interrogator: say it.  
> Me, tied to a chair : no  
> Interrogator: say they're breaking up  
> Me, spitting: fuck you

Yuri’s oh-so-dulcet tones grated on Victor’s ears as he roared, stomping into the rink. “Oi! You dried-up old geezer! Where the fuck are you, Victor?!” The younger skater growled as he laced up his skates angrily. “You were supposed to meet me two days ago to help me get the choreography in my short program! You promised me, didn’t you?”

Victor, reading a text from Yuuri (he was asking about their meeting next week), didn’t even look up.

This lead to a tense moment when Yuri snarled and tried to grab Victor’s phone. Before Victor could even think it through too much he had already stood up to keep it out of Yuri’s reach, his free hand on Yuri’s face to prevent the shorter skater from jumping.

“What in the actual FUCK?!!” Yuri yelled, outraged. “Put your phone down already!”

“No.”

“Fuck you and fuck whoever you’re texting!”

“I’m trying.”

“You’re super fucking gross, old man!”

Mila chose that exact moment to tackle-hug Yuri, who struggled and howled like an alley cat. “C’mon, Yuratchka, let’s leave Vitya to his lusting after some cute guy’s butt, we’ve got practice!” Mila chirped, Yuri flailing in her arms as she lifted him over her head.

“It’s not lust,” Victor said, absently and before he could even process it in his own head. He sighed and kept staring at his phone, waiting for Yuuri to text back.

There was suddenly a strange quiet; Victor looked up to see both Mila and Yuri staring at him. Mila in particular had a weirded-out look in her eyes. “What the heck happened to you, Victor? You’re supposed to be our resident unattainable playboy! If you fall in love who’s supposed to fill that role? _Georgi?_ He still can’t get over Anya! He ruins any makeup that comes in contact with his face! Suave isn’t in his vocabulary!”

Georgi chose this exact moment to burst into the room, mascara running and sobbing dramatically. “You guys! This is a disaster! Anya won’t answer any of my texts, and she’s blocked me everywhere!”

“Oh that note, it is my cue to leave,” Victor said, packing up his skates. “Officially, tell Yakov I’ve gone to see someone about my program music. Unofficially, I have gone to make arrangements to meet the man that may be the love of my life.”

“NO! VICTOR YOU ASSHOLE! DON’T LEAVE ME HERE! OI!”

 

* * *

 

Yuuri kept postponing their next meeting, and Victor got the distinct impression that he was trying to avoid him. But that didn’t really make any sense did it? Yuuri did agree to let him use his composition in the end, and Victor didn’t think he had insulted the pianist somehow.

In the end he did what he did best _—_ sulk and put everything into his skating.

Chris, being the absolutely unhelpful asshole that ever lived and yet was the only person he could reasonably go to for advice, was no help whatsoever.

“Hey hey, rule one of seduction: don’t be desperate,” Chris said on Facetime. “Aren’t you supposed to be a renowned casanova?”

“Chris, this isn’t a seduction, I’m not trying to have an one-night stand with him. I am _trying_ to woo him _, Chris please stop laughing._ ”

“I-it’s only been a week,” the Swiss man managed to say as soon as he stopped choking on his laughter. “Give him time, Victor. He’s probably still shellshocked! World-renowned Figure Skating Champion Victor Nikiforov busts into his studio after he plays piano alone and then proceeds to be aggressively _earnest_ at him, oh god— _Stéphane_ _!_ Stéphane love, come in here you’ve got to hear this!”

Victor hung up on him, annoyed. All his friends were such unhelpful dicks.

 

* * *

 

In the end, he didn’t even have to resort drastic measures after all.

He was out walking Makkachin when it started pouring rain again. Within seconds, Victor was soaked to the bone, and he stumbled his way into a small cafe he had never went to before. Makkachin followed him in, very politely shaking water off himself outside before coming through the threshold.

The brown-haired woman behind the counter took one look at him and started squealing, so Victor pasted on a smile and prepared himself to sign an autograph.

“Oh, gosh, I’m so happy, please make it out to Minako Okukawa. Thank you so much! Yuuri’s going to be so sad he missed you!” Minako said, handing over an old poster of Victor with his long hair.

Something about the woman’s last name and Yuuri’s pinged inside Victor’s brain. “Ms. Okukawa, is your friend, by any chance, Yuuri Katsuki?”

Minako stared at him for a moment, jaw gaping, before she swore. “Yuuri, you little _brat!_ I can’t believe he didn’t tell me he knew you!”

“I’ve only just met him the other day, and I’m actually trying to get in touch with him again? He hasn’t been returning my calls and I was starting to think something had happened to him.”

“No, but he’s been a little busy _—_ ”

“Minako-sensei! I’ve got the whipped cream you wanted!” Yuuri walked through the door and Victor was captivated all over again. Yuuri may have been sopping wet from the rain and his glasses fogged up but _god,_ Victor has it _bad._

“V-Victor! What are you doing here?” The pianist sputtered.

“Looking for you,” Victor said, and instantly wanted to throw himself off a bridge.

“O-oh.” He handed the can of cream to Minako who only giggled. She waggled her eyebrows at Yuuri significantly, who blushed and looked like he too wanted to jump off a bridge.

“I’ll just leave you two alone. Remember to use protection!”

“ _Minako-sensei!_ ” Yuuri gasped, scandalized. The woman only giggled and went into the back room of the cafe, calling out that Yuuri can get whatever they wanted.

“I am so sorry about Minako-sensei, she’s been a family friend for ages and she’s just having a bit of fun,” Yuuri said, and he looked as if he would start bowing to him in apology. “May I grab you something to drink?”

 

* * *

 

They sat there, in an awkward silence. Makkachin, for the lack of anything better to do, thumped his tail on the wooden floorboards, a constant rhythm of dull thuds.

Every so often however, Yuuri’s eyes would stray to his dog and go soft and sad; it was a mixed expression, full of grief and reminiscence.

Makkachin, being the kind darling that he was and sensing Yuuri’s sadness, poked his head into the man’s lap with his tongue lolling out. Yuuri could only laugh and start petting him; it was hard not to love Makkachin.

(Victor’s going to break out the extra expensive dog treats when he got home.)

Before long, Yuuri started to go a little quiet, and to Victor’s surprise and panic tears came down Yuuri’s face. He searched frantically for a napkin.

“I-I’m so sorry! It’s just—” The dark-haired man laughed wetly as Makkachin put his forelegs on Yuuri’s chair to lick at his face.

“Are you hurt anywhere? Do I need to call an ambulance? Here, have some tissue… Makkachin, please give Yuuri some room—”

“N-No! Makkachin is fine where he is,” Yuuri said. He gently put his arms around Makkachin, who tolerated it.

Victor had never seen his dog take to someone so quickly. Makkachin was an affectionate dog, but he preferred to initiate it than to receive it, and normally would never let someone hug him after just meeting them.

It was a few more minutes before Yuuri came back to himself. He wiped his face with a napkin, drank half of his coffee, and kept running his fingers through Makkachin’s curly brown fur.

“I’m sorry for crying into your dog,” the pianist sniffed.

“It’s no trouble. I don’t Makkachin minds either. Feeling better?”

“Yes. I always did feel better after crying.”

“Do you want to talk about it? I promise I’ll listen.”

Yuuri was silent, as if gathering the courage to speak.

“It’s just...Makkachin reminds of my dog. Vic—Vicchan passed away three weeks ago and, well.”

And what could Victor say? He understood; he would be devastated if anything happened to Makkachin.

“Actually,” Yuuri said, fidgeting. “That’s part of the reason why my first response to you wanting my composition was to turn you down. Originally, the piece didn’t sound like that, but after Vicchan died, I thought of completely rewriting the song.”

He took out his phone and handed Victor the earbuds.

The song that played was...missing something. It wasn’t bad, exactly, but it was somehow lackluster. Beneath it all, however, was _potential_. He could hear the beginnings of the music that so captivated him, the piano tugging at his heartstrings.

“I got really depressed for a while, to be perfectly honest. Vicchan had passed away, and this piece got rejected at least eleven times.” Yuuri traced patterns absently on the glass of the table, eyes distant. “And then I got tired. Tired of being depressed, tired of this composition not turning out right; so I went to Minako-sensei’s studio to use her piano to rewrite this piece and...you met me there. Like a lightning bolt out of the blue.”

And didn’t Victor feel the same? To be perfectly honest he was stuck in the same place as well— losing inspiration, and in skating, that was as good as a death sentence.

Then this boy and his music came into his life, like a sudden downpour of rain.

“Anyway, I’m sorry about not getting back to you earlier. I’ve been having some housing problems, and I just didn’t have time.” Yuuri said as Victor handed back the headphones.

“That’s no trouble,” Victor said. “But if I may ask, what housing problems?”

“Well, the apartment I stay at is getting fumigated and the landlord kicked me out, so I’ve been staying in Minako-sensei’s flat above this coffee shop, but I’ve been looking for somewhere else to stay. I’m really sorry about it!”

Victor, being the slightly flighty and rich person he was, didn’t even think before saying, “Why don’t you stay with me?”

Yuuri gaped. Emboldened, Victor pressed on. “I have a lot of space, and it’s just me and Makkachin at the moment. My neighbourhood is quiet so it’s great for creativity! You don’t have to worry about rent either, since I’m already counting on you for my free skate.” Victor blurted.

Behind them, Minako was trying to suppress her laughter. “O-oh, _Yuuri,_ go for it. You’ve been camped out on my couch and I know your back is dying, and you can’t get any music done in my apartment anyway because Old Lady Galina next door is a grumpy old hag. Besides, don’t you have the world’s biggest crush on Vi—”

“Noooooo!” Yuuri said, making a sound akin to that of a dying whale. “Don’t tell him anything!”

“Oh, so I shouldn’t tell him about the posters?”

“ _Minako-sensei!_ ”

“He’ll do it.” Minako said, eyes smug. Her grin could only be described as shit-eating.

Yuuri buried his face into his folded arms, groaning. “I have lost all control over my life.” He said, muffled into his sleeves.

“Is that a yes?” Victor asked, his heart in his throat.

Yuuri looked up and nodded shyly.

Victor could feel his lips stretch into an uncontrollably wide smile. “I look forward to it then. When will you be ready? I’ll need a day to clean up and you can move in anytime!”

“Th-then, maybe two days from now?” Yuuri said, uncertainly.

“Two days it is.” God, Victor was going to have to clean his _entire_ apartment, scrub _everything_ down, but somehow couldn’t find a single shred of annoyance about it.

 

* * *

 

“So, that happened? How did you get from asking _me_ for romantic advice and panicking to letting this guy move in with you?” Chris asked incredulously.

Victor didn’t even answer, and only screeched into the pillow on his lap.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yurio chill ur tits
> 
> I'm calling Chris's mystery boyfriend Stéphane, and yes that is a reference to Stéphane Lambiel, you can't stop me.
> 
> Whoop this fic suddenly turned into an excuse for domestic victuuri fluff can't stop won't stop
> 
> Please excuse this chapter for being late, but it is a bit longer than the first two and had quite a bit of development so rip me
> 
> IMMMMM SCREAMMMINN 2 DAYS


	4. Call 4: If so, will you stay here with me?」

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri moves in, Yuri gets a new name, Victor has a few cooking accidents and falls even more in love. The backbone of their bond is formed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Psychic : *reads my mind*  
> Me, internally: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA PAIR SKATE AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA  
> Psychic, softly and with feeling: what the fuck really?

When did he get three bags of coffee?

More importantly, did Yuuri like coffee? He did drink it from what Victor saw that day at Minako’s cafe, but what kind did he actually like? What if he didn’t like any of the coffee he had in his cupboards?

Yuuri was moving in this afternoon, and here Victor was, obsessively cleaning the house like a teenage girl with her crush coming over for a sleepover. Except the fact that he was twenty-seven and once upon a time had made dubious purchases that were now piled up in the corner of his spare room.

Like that hideous blender under the dust covers. Where did he even get that? Did Georgi give it to him as a housewarming gift? There was no way he would pick anything so tasteless on his own.

“Oi, Victor!” Yuri’s voice came from the other end of his apartment. “Where the fuck do I put this shit?”

“On the counter but not on the left side!” He shouted back.

“Which side is the left side?!”

“The one on your left!”

“ _Which left?”_

“The _left!_ ”

“You are the single most annoying person on the surface of this planet!”

Huffing in annoyance, Victor shoved the blender into the ‘Give-Away’ pile and stomped his way into the kitchen.

“Where’s the box, Yuratchka?”

“On the counter, you asshole. Why the fuck are you so keyed up anyway?” Yuri growled. “You better live up to your promise, Victor! I don’t care if I have to drag you out of your apartment to do it, but you _are_ going to properly teach me this Agape routine! You’ve blown off every single meeting we were supposed to have this month!”

“Well, I was busy! I’ll make it up to you, I promise.” The older skater waved at Yuri, unconcerned.

The doorbell rang and Victor’s heart rate went spiking up again. He half ran, half stumbled his way to the door, tripping over boxes and cursing as he stubbed his toe against the coffee table. He could hear Yuri laughing at his misfortune, the little brat. See if Victor didn’t embarrass _him_ the next time he tried to talk to that one skater from Kazakhstan.

“Hi!” Victor said, grinning brightly at Yuuri as he opened the door. “Yuuri! It’s wonderful to see you!”

“I’m sorry I’m late! The traffic got really bad and it took a while to get here. I only have a few boxes, so I can grab them on my own!” The pianist blurted. He had a long case, presumably his keyboard, cradled in his arms, and there were a small pile of boxes behind him; Yuuri probably didn’t unpack all that much when he moved into Minako’s apartment.

Said cafe owner followed behind Yuuri, holding a pastry box. The smell of fresh baked goods wafted into the air, and Yuri poked his head into the living room like a cat hearing the can opener.

Minako squealed, and Yuuri barely managed to rescue the box of cookies from her flailing hands. “Yuri Plisetsky!” She gasped, and dug into her purse for a pen.

“Come on out, Yura, it’s not like you’re gonna get these cookies hiding in the kitchen.” The boy glowered, stubbornly resisting the temptation before shuffling in. He took one look at Yuuri and his green eyes narrowed.

“Oi, piggy. So you’re the one that’s been distracting Victor?” The younger skater stomped closer, leaning into the pianist’s space; Yuuri leaned back, slightly taken aback by his aggression.

“I don’t see anything special about you. Why don’t you keep your nose in your own business and just write your piece?”

“Um,” Yuuri’s face was slightly intimidated with quite a dash of _where did this angry child come from, is he lost, does he need an adult can someone please come find him._ “H-hi?”

“Oh, Yuri, don’t be like that!” He sidled up to the younger skater, an arm thrown around his thin shoulders and _squeezed_ . “After all, he _is_ doing me a favour!”

“Let me go! There can’t be two Yuris here, that’s just annoying!” Yuri struggled and pushed against Victor’s arm.

Oh, he was going to hate _this._ “Well, why don’t we call you something else then, Yuri? How about Yura? Yuratchka?”

“How about Yurio? Nice and simple, easy for Yuuri to remember.” Minako suggested, and Victor felt like he has found a partner in crime and sense of humour with Minako.

“Yurio it is! That’s perfect!” Victor laughed delightedly even as the newly-christened Yurio tried to claw his eyes out. “I’d be more worried about you killing me if you can actually reach that high!”

 

* * *

 

It didn’t take them very long to move everything in, and suddenly they both had the afternoon free. Without wasting a single moment, Victor took the chance to hook an arm around Yuuri’s and show him around the neighbourhood. Or, as he put it, “Let’s go together to look for inspiration!”

He was suddenly very aware of his clammy hands, but luckily Yuuri didn’t seem to notice; the pianist started to tug at Victor shyly to ask where various shops were. The skater happily pointed out the park where he walked Makkachin most mornings, the shop with the best blini, the marketplace—

“Ah!” The man’s brown eyes sparkled, a look of excitement on his face. At the end of the road was a small music shop, the display dazzling in its lights gleaming off burnished wood. Before Victor could even properly realize it they’ve drifted into the shop, and Yuuri was already looking longingly at the instruments much like how Yurio would stare at those ridiculous leopard print skates he wanted so much.

“I’m so sorry! It’s just I’ve been so busy lately that I didn’t have the time to visit.” Yuuri said, apologetic. The man’s long fingers traced the white keys of an upright piano as his eyes never stopped sparkling.

“I really don’t mind at all,” Victor said back, just watching.

(He hadn’t looked away from Yuuri, not once.)

 

* * *

 

They settled into a routine eventually over the course of two weeks; with a bit of discussion they divvied up the chores— Victor in charge of the laundry and tidying, Yuuri in charge of dishes and cooking. It was all so terribly domestic that all of Victor’s rinkmates kept giving him strange looks as he revelled in the bliss of home-cooked lunches.

The first time Victor tried to cook for Yuuri was about two weeks in after he had researched the best recipes (because all the dating advice articles he saw online had the line “ _Cook for him! The way to a man’s heart is through his stomach!_ ”) but even he underestimated his [disastrous cooking skills](http://stellestial.tumblr.com/post/154696848048/ulanji-so-much-happening-i-cannot-beleive-this); Yuuri came home one afternoon to find a pancake stuck to the ceiling, the vegetables in the frying pan on fire, and Victor plus Makkachin covered in flour.

“I have this under control!” Victor was yelling, Makkachin was barking and jumping around in excitement, and Yuuri couldn’t stop laughing even as he went for the fire extinguisher.

By the time they had everything cleaned up the two of them were starving. Yuuri grudgingly grabbed ingredients for his mother’s katsudon recipe and the two of them cheated on their diets, polishing off the bowls with amazing speed and relish.

“You’ll really make a wonderful husband one day,” Victor said, taking his time with a cutlet. “Your cooking skills are amazing! All the girls are probably already crawling all over you!” He stole a few glances sideways at Yuuri, judging his reaction.

The other man flushed, fiddling with his fork. “Um, not really?”

Unable to resist, Victor pressed on. “Any lovers?”

“N-no?”

“How about ex-lovers?”

“N-no comment!”

“Well, let’s talk about me! My first lover was—”

“Nooooo!” Yuuri squeaked again, and wasn’t it just incredible, this shy boy still blushing like a teenage girl after weeks of living together? Wasn’t it just incredible that he didn’t shy away from Victor’s ham-handed advances?

They spent the rest of the day lounging around the apartment, hot cocoa in hand and laughing on the couch. Makkachin sprawled bonelessly across their laps as the spring rain went on and on outside, beating against the windows and afternoon sun.

“A sun shower,” Yuuri said, grinning. “A fox must be getting married.”

As the other man started telling old Japanese folktales, stories of trickster foxes and yokai and gods, Victor drudged up his own stories of Baba Yaga and Koshchei the Deathless, blurrily remembered from his grandmother’s knee, throwing in wild improvisations that had Yuuri laughing all the more.

“And I kid you not, the house had chicken’s legs!” Victor gestured wildly, and Yuuri giggled.

“Are you sure you’re not just pulling _my_ leg?” He said, the dappled light on his hair making it shine, and Victor has never been this smashingly happy in his life.

“My dear Yuuri,” he said, a quiet thrill in his heart. “I would never.”

 

* * *

 

 

Of course, it wasn’t like they spent all their time together; practice ate up most of Victor’s time, and Yuuri still had to go help out at Minako’s cafe in the mornings; most days however, they saw each other at dinner (which Victor was forbidden to ever make again).

As such, Victor didn’t really get to hear the way the song progressed and evolved over time, how the backbone of chords branched out, how the harmonies grew into place. He didn’t hear the sound of Yuuri quickly standing up one afternoon in the middle of washing vegetables for dinner and heading straight for his keyboard.

He did notice,however, when Yuuri asked him to head to Minako’s dance studio on his next free day.  

“Um, it’s just—I have more of the piece done!” Yuuri said, his worn notebook in his hands. “It’s not completely finished still, but I think I have the basic melody and harmonies down. It’s at least enough to practice your routine with, and I’ll make tweaks and more layers of sound as soon as they’re done. But Minako-sensei’s studio is one place where I know has a piano, and hearing it on the keyboard doesn’t give quite the feeling.”

“Of course. I look forward to it...it’s a date then!”

“O-okay.”

“Buh-what?” Victor almost spat out his coffee at this unexpected answer. “Wait, for real?”

“Victor, I’ve cried on your dog. We’ve been living together for six weeks, I’ve seen you almost burn down your kitchen. And don’t think I haven’t noticed you secretly signing all my posters.” Yuuri huffed, embarrassed. “If-if it’s okay with you, I’d like to go on a date. No fancy dinners, but...just listen to me play, and don’t take your eyes off of me.”

Victor could feel his own face burn, but his heart is too light for it to feel awkward. “Ah, Yuuri is quite observant after all,” he said, grinning. “It would be my absolute pleasure to take you out on a date. But in return, I demand a dance.”

“We _are_ going to a dance studio…” Yuuri’s eyes sparkled in that way Victor was so enamoured with, in that way whenever he laughed. “A dance it is, but I get to pick the music.” He took a deep breath, as if gathering his bravado, and laced his fingers gently with Victor’s.

Victor squeezed back, exultant. This was better than winning the Grand Prix.

 

* * *

 

The studio was empty when they arrived—Minako had already given them the go-ahead. It was exactly how Victor remembered it, down to the worn floors and the old upright piano in the corner.

Yuuri pulled Victor over to the piano, and Victor could almost feel Yuuri’s heartbeat fluttering nervously through their linked hands; Victor almost didn’t want to let go.

The pianist took a seat, quickly adjusting the bench. The skater put his arms on top of the piano, fingers tracing the age-old scratches on old wood, looking down at his face.

A moment of silence. Then, the two of them met eyes, took a deep breath, and the [music](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DnL-ZEtvim4) started. A soft cascade of notes, the ones that had caught his attention first that spring day, rang and lingered in the air.

Victor could tell that this was it, the culmination of hours and days and weeks, the piece born of love. There were a few places where it was clear that it was not complete, places where it sounded like there should be more instruments than just the piano alone, but Yuuri was right, the backbone, the beginning was all there. _Arms reaching, rounded, beseeching, lonely, then as the note echoes_ , _a jump combination, like defying gravity._

He could envision it all, just a little bit more, a few more times, Victor would have a completely new program. Something he has never skated before, so completely different from what he has done season after season, year after year.

The tempo picked up, and his pulse went with it; _a quad salchow here, dance like how he feels in his chest right now, swelling and soft, with energy._

The syncopation in pace in time with his breathing, Victor closed his eyes. _The arpeggios over the quiet ice, a spin in time with the dancing bass line. Then as his blades leave the ice, the music_ —

Dissolved quietly, like realizing on the couch as the rain fell outside that he has never been this happy before. _Spread eagle, Ina Bauer, triple axel. He breathes, an almost silent gasp that only he can hear._

A call and response, arpeggios picking up from the soft notes. _Dancing on the ice, like he’s eternal, this love is forever, and he doesn’t have to come back down. Jump combination_ , _like the burn in his muscles doesn’t even register._

The chords picked up, and it was like he was electrified. _Another jump combination, and there’s no pretending_ , _he might not have forever, but let him give whatever time he has left on the ice. And he’ll surpass everyone’s expectations, his own wildest dreams, and for the last touch, his final time as a competitor_ — _a quad flip!_

_He has no more time._

_As the notes wind down, like a spring rainshower ending, he dips in a combination spin. Stands up in his ending pose, and reaches._

“So, how is that?” Yuuri asked. He didn’t seem embarrassed, not like the last time they were in this exact studio, at the same piano, with this same song.

Victor smiled back. “It’s perfect,” he said, and meant every word.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
> 
> Also, reminder to look at all the chapter titles as a whole; _Answer 1: 「 A faint clap of thunder,_ is coming up next.
> 
> AND ALSO, I can't believe I predicted St. Petersburg domestic fluff, oh my fuckng god.


	5. Answer 1:「A faint clap of thunder,

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yurio gets tips, the rinkmates meet Victor's snake charmer/lion tamer boyfriend, and a media storm starts to brew.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Friend: Look! They changed the Hollywood sign again  
> Me: What does it say  
> Friend: Ice Gays
> 
> This is the chapter that did not want to be written and GOD i'm exhausted please excuse the shitty quality
> 
> but here, have more gays. 
> 
> i'll probably come back and revise this later.

Victor was somehow being even _more_ insufferable during practice than usual.

By the end of the day Yakov couldn’t even glance his way without grinding his teeth; all of the other skaters, even Yurio, were giving the old man a wide berth even as his face turned fire-engine red—everyone except possibly the most annoying bastard on the face of the planet.

“Yakov! You shouldn’t be so stressed, it’s bad for your blood pressure!” Victor said, clapping his coach on the back as he laughed cheerfully. “Didn’t your doctor already warn you about that?”

“I wouldn’t need to watch my blood pressure if it wasn’t for you! You take years off my life every time!” If Yakov went any redder Yuri was gonna go for his phone and call an ambulance, and the man was inches away from shaking his fist in Victor’s face. “Just get to work and stop throwing your emotions all over the place! Are you trying to drive me insane?!”

Meanwhile, Mila was just laughing at the whole situation in general and not being of help in any way shape or form, and Georgi was...being Georgi.

“Aaaah, to be young again…” the man had the audacity to sigh, and Yuri felt the overwhelming urge to scream well up in him as the only sane and rational person in the vicinity.

“ _You are the exact same age as him! You are_ exactly _one day younger than he is!_ ”

Georgi put a hand to his chest and glanced down at him, every bit the hurt diva. “But I am, and have always been, an old soul.”

Yuri wanted to bash his own brains out against the ice, but then the world would lose what little sense it had left and Yuri couldn’t do that to mankind.

 _I will hold on for you,_ _дедушка!_

There was the sound of the door opening, and Victor just fucking lit up like a christmas tree. In walked the pig living in Victor’s house, and the man just waved and grinned like an idiot.

Yuri looked at the sappy, besotted expression on Victor’s face and thought _absolutely barbaric. Victor Nikiforov is dead and this chubby pianist killed him._

“Yuuri!” Victor jumped a little, wrapping octopus arms around the shorter man, who stumbled a little from the sudden weight.

“Victor!” The pianist laughed, a blush rising on his face. “You said you wanted me here for something?”

“Oh, right! I’m finished my short program and I would love for you to watch it!”

“Vitya! You haven’t cleared it with me beforehand!” Yakov roared, actually shaking his fist now. “Don’t just show off your routines to anyone who asks! What if someone leaks them before the season begins?!”

“Don’t be such a stiff! My Yuuri here isn’t going to do that, are you Yuuri?” Victor said back, cheerfully throwing an arm around Yuuri’s waist. “Besides, he’s my inspiration this season! If Yuuri is watching me skate I’m sure to win every gold!”

“V-Victor!” Yuuri somehow blushed harder and Victor laughed in a way no one in the rink had heard from him before. Everyone else stared at the man in bewilderment.

There was a quiet sniffle from the sidelines in the small moment of silence.

“ _Oh no,_ ” Mila said, but the way she said it was so full of delight and anticipation. “Here we go.”

“ _Old hag,_ ” Yuri growled and tried not to pull his hair out—he didn’t want to turn out like Victor, hairline thinning at twenty-seven.

Georgi started bawling, his arms going around the nearest person, who just so happened to be Yuuri. "You two......have such a beautiful relationship.....! I wish you all the happiness that left me when Anyaaa did....!" The man sobbed, and Yuuri could only reach up to pat the crying man gently on the shoulder.

"There, there," the younger man said, uncertainly. "I'm sure it'll all work out somehow."

Georgi only sobbed louder as Mila leaned in to whisper conspiratorially to Yuuri. "Everyone's been tired of his drama for weeks, you're the first one to express sympathy in a while so be prepared for him to _cling._ "

There was now snot and tears all over Yuuri's sweater.

“Alright, break it up, _I said break it up_ ,” Yuri yelled as Victor pulled Yuuri closer. “You promised me you would look over my short program again, Victor! Don’t fucking back out on me now!”

The man pouted like a five-year-old and Yuri has never wanted to throttle anyone so badly in his _life_. “Awwww, but I wanted to show Yuuri—”

“YOU PROMISED!”

“Alright, alright, _fine_. Do your thing, let me see it.”

The others all left the ice, Mila elbowing Georgi as he apologized profusely to Yuuri and giving him tissue to clean his clothes. Idiots, the whole lot of them.

Yuri stood at starting position in the rink, eyes closed and hands at his sides. When the familiar music started on the speakers Yuri didn’t wait for the next breath to rush out of his lungs, pushing off into the setup for the next jump. He landed the triple axel without a single wobble.

He sped on to the next element, gathering enough speed and took off into the flying sit spin, reaching up into the Bielmann. Without a single moment’s delay he transitioned into his quad salchow-triple toe combination and—

“No! Stop stop stop _stop!_ ” Victor shouted from the side of the rink, waving his arms wildly and frowning. “What the hell was _that?_ ”

“What do you _think?_ I’m skating Agape! Are you going senile? You’re the one who choreographed this program for me in the first place!” Yuri screamed, his fists clenched and knuckles white.

“No. I don’t know what that was, but it was _not_ Agape. It was all so...so angry! Agape is supposed to be more—” Victor waved his arms, clearly imitating the opening arm movements of the short program. “Like _that!_ Not whatever that was!”

“Victor, I can’t say I know too much about figure skating,” Yuuri said dryly, eyebrow raised, “but even I can tell that’s not a very good explanation of anything.”

“Yuuri! I am wounded! Are you saying that I’m not a good teacher?”

“I’m saying that you’re not addressing the root problem here, Victor. The whole point of teaching is to address the root problem a student may not be able to see on their own, and Yuri’s performance needs that push.” Yuuri looked at Yuri thoughtfully, head tilted; the blond skater gritted his teeth and tried not to fidget under the sudden inspection. “You are _giusto_ where you should be _teneramente;_ there’s something you still haven’t figured out yet.”

“I’ve been going through this routine for weeks now! I have everything down—”

“You have the technical elements down, I’m sure. I can see that much; anyone can see it.” Yuuri interrupted, and even he looked a little shocked at his own audacity. “I-it’s just... Agape, if I remember right, is _unconditional, selfless love_. It’s hard to convey because it’s hard to pin down.” The pianist looked at his hands, clearly running out of steam. “Maybe you just need a center.”

“A center?”

“A person you can keep in mind. Someone you feel Agape for, someone you skate for and dedicate this program to.” Victor watched in shock as Yuri looked _thoughtful_ instead of exploding in anger at the unexpected advice; the entire team had been trying for _weeks_ to get Yuri to listen to advice but here Yuuri was, performing miracles again.

“Well, that sounds like solid advice. Why don’t you go again, Yuratchka?” Yakov said, staring at Yuuri like he had somehow tamed a lion. “Try it again, from the top.”

“I-I don’t think that’s a good idea at the moment, Mr. Feltsman,” Yuuri said. Yakov physically twitched and jumped to look in disbelief, as if surprised at the respect. “Do you have a dance studio? Maybe with a piano?”

Mila perked up. “Oooh, do we! Let me go grab the keys from Yakov’s office!”

 

* * *

 

Victor almost didn’t get to hear Yuuri play, because someone was already waiting for them down at the studio.

“Yakov! You are stunningly late!” Lilia Baranovskaya said, tone sharp, as soon as they walked through the studio doors. Yakov’s face reddened even more before it paled at the sight of the prima in her distinctive lemon yellow coat and strictly pulled back bun.

“ _I_ _can’t believe I forgot,_ ” he said, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else at that moment.

“Do you mean to say,” Lilia continued in an icy tone, “that you simply _forgot_ that you requested my presence here? I am doing _you_ a favour, helping _your_ skaters!”

The rest of Yakov’s skaters bunched up far away from the dressing-down he was getting, avoiding getting caught in the lethal crossfire. It was like watching a car wreck in slow motion—disastrous, but somehow compelling.

“Shouldn’t we stop them?” Yuuri whispered to Victor, who only grinned and shushed him.

“It’s just getting good. Don’t stop them now.”

“One more question. Victor, why didn’t you ever tell me you knew Madame Baranovskaya?” The pianist hissed.

“What?”

“You knew the most renowned prima of the Bolshoi this generation and you didn’t even _tell me?_ ” The pianist looked pissed, and suddenly Victor felt attacked.

“ _Yuuri_ ,” he tried to grab on to the brunet’s arm but missed as his boyfriend strode forward, right in front of the argument.

“Um, excuse me!” Yuuri said, head bowed, and Lilia looked away from her yelling at Yakov. “It’s an honour to meet you, Madame Baranovskaya! I’m a big fan of your work!”

And Yuuri just looked so earnestly excited to meet her that he somehow defused the burgeoning hour-long argument between the exes; Lilia looked genuinely flattered, smiling indulgently as Yuuri searched in his bag for a pen and something to write on.

“It has been some time since I have met such an enthusiastic fan,” Lilia laughed as she signed a page out of Yuuri’s battered notebook. “You must have some background in dance; what discipline? Under whom?”

“Um, i-in ballet, actually,” Yuuri said, blushing, and _why didn’t Victor know about any of this? You should tell your boyfriend this kind of thing!_  “I trained with Minako Okukawa for quite a few years when she was still based in Japan.”

“Okukawa? From the Benois de la Danse?”

“Hey, Victor,” Georgi said as he leaned over to whisper to him. “Did you end up dating a snake charmer? First Yuratchka listens to his advice, then Yakov stops yelling, and now Lilia? How does he keep doing this? And can he teach me whatever it is?”

Victor smiled. “Nope! That’s just the way he is. Isn’t Yuuri just wonderful?”

 

* * *

 

 

“So? Why did you drag me down here? What do you need a piano for anyway?” Yuri growled impatiently. “You better not be wasting my time.”

Yuuri laughed a little, suddenly self-conscious. “Of course not, Yurio. Look, I know you’re really struggling with the Agape program right now, and believe me when I say I’ve been stuck before on performances too.” He pulled up the bench, playing a few notes. Then silence.

“Victor’s piece isn’t the first time I’ve been stuck on a composition. There was a piece I needed to finish and I just couldn’t. I had the beat, the melody. But I had no harmony.”

Yuuri took a deep breath, and started playing.

 

* * *

 

“He’s good,” Victor heard Yuri say, even as he tried to stifle the words.

Even in a room with crappy acoustics, an out-of-tune scratched up piano, and a doubting audience, Yuuri played like he was in an empty concert hall with only his dearest family listening. The [song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3IJSXCdUz_w) wasn’t technically challenging, but it touched the heart.

“Wow,” Mila said, eyes wide. “I thought he was just your boy toy, but he’s packing some serious musical chops there. Makes you wonder what he can really do all out.”

Victor smiled, a warm, proud thing in his chest. “Of course. It’s how I met him in the first place.”

The moment Yuuri looked up from the keys, the last notes hanging in the air, the rest of them were already crowding around the piano, staring at him like he was something utterly fascinating.

Yuri, especially.

Without another word, the blond skater turned on the spot and walked out of the studio, shoulders tense in a strict line, movements full of purpose.

Yuuri shouted worriedly at his back, and there was a rush to the door as they all collectively moved to follow the younger skater. By the time they caught up, Yuri was already lacing up his skates and rushing past the boards.

Yakov was about to yell at him from just running off when Victor quickly shushed the older man and grabbed the remote for the sound system. As soon as Yuri pushed his way to the center of the ice, arms lowered and face down in the familiar starting position of _On Love: Agape_ , Victor pressed play.

Even at the side of the rink some distance away, they could all see the way Yuri took a deep breath and let himself just _flow_.

“He’s incredible,” Yuuri whispered, eyes not leaving the suddenly much improved program. “What a change—a beautiful, ever-evolving monster.”

 _He’s flying over the ice_ — _I will hold on for you,_ _дедушка!_ — _and there’s nothing but blankness in his mind even as his body as the quadruple salchow-triple toe combination comes and goes.  And another quadruple toe!_

 _This one punches the air right out of his lungs, the landing jolting up his legs and shaking his core_ —

He couldn’t hold on. Yuri gritted his teeth, trying to keep his agape in his mind through the combination spin, but to no avail. It was already gone.

Fingers clasped together, he reached up, arms stretching towards the ceiling in the familiar ending pose.

 

* * *

 

“That’s the best performance of Agape you’ve ever done, Yuratchka!” Victor shouted from the side of the rink as Mila and Georgi started whooping and hollering, clapping their hands as hard as they could. The blond skater pushed his way to the boards, still annoyed.

“Shut up! I could have done better!” Yuri growled, hands clenched at his sides; he looked a second away from .

Lilia looked at him, eyes thoughtful. “You could have,” she said, eyebrows arched, but with a challenging glint in her eyes. “If you are willing to give your soul into the deal. Be reborn under my tutelage, and I can help you win _._ You have strength, but you lack _beauty_. Strength is _nothing_ without beauty.”

Yuri looked up at Lilia, at her heavy makeup, stern eyes, at her perfectly straight posture. He turned to Yuuri, who was looking at him and smiling encouragingly.

Yuri nodded, and thus sealed his fate.

 

* * *

 

The streetlamps were already on by the time Victor and Yuuri walked out of the rink hand in hand. The chilly evening air made Yuuri shiver and move closer to Victor.

Suddenly, the pianist stumbled to a stop, his boyfriend coming to a jerky halt beside him.

“Do you think I was coming on too strong, Victor? I mean, god, I just came into your practice and started shooting my mouth off, _oh my god Victor why didn’t you stop me._ ” Yuuri blurted out, as if the realization of what he really did was finally sinking in, and buried his face into Victor’s chest. He could only laugh and pat Yuuri’s hair, comforting him as best he could.

“I wouldn’t have stopped you at all, my Yuuri. Everything you said and did was right; Yurio really did need that last push to finally start understanding Agape, you know.”

“No, I’m sure he would have figured it out on his own.” Yuuri said. "But if there's one thing I really regret about this whole session... I didn't end up seeing your short program after all."

Victor laughed, a sound that lifted him up from the core, and placed a gentle kiss to Yuuri's forehead. "Don't worry, котенок. I will show it to you the next chance we have, and the next after that, and the next after that. I will show you all the skating you'll ever want."

Yuuri smiled, and Victor could feel the way he lit up. "I'll hold you to that."

 

* * *

 

Anna was out walking her dog when she walked past the ice rink, eyes idly sweeping across the streets across from her. There was a couple standing face to face with each other, clearly having a nice, sweet conversation; Anna smiled to herself as the taller man leaned down to plant a gentle kiss to the shorter man’s forehead, hands framing the other’s face before he wrapped the man into a hug.

She took her phone and snapped the perfect picture, the lights of the city behind them, the taller man’s arms gently around the other, still in their intimate position.

And then, five minutes after she uploaded the photo to Instagram, Cousin Katerina recognized that distinctive silver hair and her feed _exploded._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phichit is going to have a field day, and speaking of Phichit, prepare for a whole ton of Yuuri's musician friends to show up next chapter ;))))))))))))))
> 
> also, for future reference here is Yuuri's celebrity crush ranking list:  
> Victor Nikiforov (D U H )  
> Lilia Baranovskaya's ballet career (because you know this boy is a ballet otaku)  
> Tchaikovsky's music but especially Swan Lake but then again who doesn't get a music boner for the Four Little Swans Pas de Quatre lbr


	6. Answer 2: Even if rain comes or not,

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phichit admires Yuuri's sugar daddy, Yuuri's friends do him a solid, and the song is finally finished.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phichit goes to Victuuri's apartment  
> Food: Eaten  
> Music: Played  
> Relationship: asked to be best man
> 
>  
> 
> _He is politely asked to leave_

Phichit adjusted the straps on his case, hiking it further up his shoulder. The afternoon traffic wasn’t as nightmarish as it could have been, and Phichit congratulated himself on having the foresight to leave a good thirty minutes early to avoid the rush. He checked the gps on his phone and kept walking towards the address Yuuri gave him.

“That must be it,” Phichit said to himself, not even bothering checking the address. The crowd of reporters and the fleet of camera vans kind of gave it away. “Alright, elbows, don’t fail me now!”

A lot of reporters ended up with sore ribs that day.

 

* * *

 

“Yuu~ri~!” Phichit jumped on the pianist as soon as he opened the door to the apartment. The brunette laughed as he tried to support the younger man’s weight, mindful of the case on his back.

“Phichit! It’s good to see you.” Yuuri smiled. “Thanks for helping me out, I really appreciate it.”

“No problem! Anything for my best friend. Although I am  _ very  _ cross with you.” The Thai musician pouted as he put his arms akimbo. 

Yuuri looked chagrined. “What did I do this time, Phichit?” The pianist sighed, bracing himself for theatrics; Phichit did not fail to deliver.

“I am betrayed." Phichit said, dramatically clutching at his chest. "Betrayed! I find out my best friend has snagged the man of his prepubescent teenage dreams and didn't even bother sending a message my way! Oh foul treachery! After all those years we’ve spent together in the same conservatory! Oh cruel treason!"

“Phichit,” Yuuri said, exasperated. “Please. Why are you like this?”

“You, my friend, are the responsible one in this friendship. It is therefore my solemn duty to be as dramatic as possible to balance out! Otherwise the universe would implode on itself.”

“Well, be dramatic somewhere else. Would you like some tea? You’re the first one here.”

“Speaking of the man of your prepubescent dreams, where is he?”

“I kicked him out for the day. I didn’t want him to hear the full finished piece until we’ve got it down, and if Victor stayed in the apartment he’s going to hear it. I want to preserve suspense.”

“Getting prettied up for your man, huh? Go get him tiger!”

“ _ Phichit! _ ”

 

* * *

 

“Mickey! Stop trying to beat up the poor reporter, it was an accidental bump!” Sara Crispino grumbled even as she dragged her twin brother into the spacious apartment.

“But he touched you!” The man stomped his way down the hall. “He deserves to get roughed up a little.”

“Hey now, Mickey! No need to be so cranky.” Emil patted the Italian on his back heartily, laughing even as the other man screeched.

“Yuuri better let me raid his fridge if he wants me to deal with this, he’s already promised me all his cutest chocolates from home.” Sara sighed to herself even as Mickey yelled about inappropriate closet perverts.

“Um,” the aforementioned man poked his head out into the hallway, looking at the three of them clustered in front of his door. “Do you guys want to come in?”

Phichit Chulanont was already waist deep into the fancy minimalist fridge when they walked in, hands full with a tub of ice cream. He waved before diving back in, sounding triumphant even as he found something else.

Seung-gil Lee was lounging around on the couch, scrolling through his phone. He looked up once, saw them, and immediately looked back down to his phone. 

“Feel free to put your stuff down in the studio.” Yuuri said, putting a tray full of tea cups onto the table. “Thank you all so much for doing this, by the way.”

“Wait wait  _ wait _ ,” Phichit said, a spoon in his mouth and eyes wide. “A  _ studio?  _ Your boyfriend let you set up a  _ studio in his apartment?  _ When is the wedding? Why haven’t you asked me to be best man already?”

“Don’t look at me like that Phichit! He did it before I even asked!”

 

* * *

 

_ “You did  _ what?! _ ” Yuuri stared at the sleek new piano and recording equipment that had replaced the guest bed that was nominally his. The room had essentially turned into a semi-professional recording studio, and Yuuri recognized some of the equipment in the room from his own studio back in Hasetsu. _

_ “Well, it’s clear you needed somewhere dedicated to work, and you’ve just been sleeping in my room anyways so I thought it was high time I just moved your stuff to the master bedroom and turn the guest room into a studio! I talked to Minako and she got in touch with your sister, and the shipping company just finished setting up when you were helping out at her place.”  _

_ “Victor, I really appreciate it, but how...how much did that piano cost? And oh god, is that a  _ Bechstein _?!” _

_ “Happy three month anniversary!” _

 

* * *

 

“And that’s how I have a studio now.”

“So let me get this straight,” Phichit said. “Your sugar daddy boyfriend—don’t fight me on this Yuuri, you know it’s true— bought you a _twenty-thousand plus_ _Bechstein_ because it was your three month anniversary? Damn, need me a freak like that.”

“Phichit, why are we friends?”

“Shutting up now.”

“Thank you. Now, does everyone have their sheet music I sent over last week?”

Murmurs of  _ yes  _ went around the room.

“How many of you actually practiced?”

Dead silence.

“Well, we have the whole day, and everything’s already set up. Emil, your drum set got here twenty minutes ago and you could give them a check. Tuning is in ten minutes, and I need to check on the green tea cake I still have in the oven, so Phichit finish your ice cream and get ready please!”

 

* * *

 

“Why the fuck are you even here,” Yuri snarled as the taller man curled up into his couch with his horse of a dog on top of him, Yuri’s cats snuggled into the poodle’s fur (the little traitors!). “It’s Sunday. Stop bumming around my house and go bother the piggy already!”

“But  _ Yuuuuuraaaaaa _ , he’s shunted me out for the day to record the final version of  _ that  _ song! Does he not love me anymore? A whole day!”

“Old geezer, why are you like this. I’m almost one hundred percent sure he kicked you out because you’re gonna poke your head in there every fifteen seconds and Katsudon will never get any work done, ever.”

Victor took the chance to break down into the most fake-sounding sobs Yuri has ever heard, and buried his face into Vera’s fur. “I’m so wounded, Yurio! I don’t think I’ll ever be able to recover.”

“Get off my couch!”

“No, I don’t think so. Do you want my advice for your short program or not?”

“Grandpa! Please if the police show up and demand to know where Victor Nikiforov is, cover for me!”

“Yuratchka! Take your murder crime scenes outside the house! No homicide under my roof!”

 

* * *

 

“Whew, Yuuri! This piece is one hell of an arrangement. This syncopation is insane!” Phichit laughed as they stopped for the second time at the passage. “How do you expect my bow to keep up?” Sara and Michele nodded from beside him, good-naturedly ribbing Yuuri.

“Giving me a real workout too,” Emil huffed. “Your percussion parts are not hard, but they require a heck of a lot of control.”

Yuuri ran a hand through his hair, wiping his glasses before pouting at his friends. “Alright, I get it, it’s a hard piece to play ensemble! But one more time, from the top! We can play through this again, and then we’ll break for cake. Seung-gil, one more time?”

Seung-gil nodded, fiddling with the recording equipment. He gave the signal, and with a deep breath, Yuuri [started](https://soundcloud.com/ku-choque/yuri-on-ice-4fs).

Within the first two bars, he knew that this one was it.

_ The notes run over themselves, like rain water over the streets of St. Petersburg, like the rain when Mari tells him Vicchan is dead, like the rain on the windows when they tell him for the eleventh time that it isn’t good enough. The sound of the rain as he plays alone in an empty dance studio. _

_ Then, with a gradually growing beat, Victor walks into his life. An underlying string melody lengthens and deepens his days.  _

_ The call and response strengthens _ —  _ a dance, a question, an answer. Walks in the park, watching stupid movies together, looking through a bookstore and pointing out favourite books. And then _ — 

_ Gentle piano notes, like gliding silently over ice, like realizing on the couch that he has never been this smashingly happy in his life, watching Victor laugh with the dappled light on his silver hair. _

_ The chords and arpeggios pick up again, strength and beauty together. Their relationship is not without its flaws _ — _ Victor is still airheaded, forgetful, and painfully blunt, and Yuuri is not without his crippling insecurities and fears. _

_ It’s strength in the moments when the presence of the reporters outside their door grows too heavy and Victor will close the blinds and kiss him, quietly and a solid shield against the flash of cameras. It’s beauty when Yuuri gently reminds Victor that he’s not alone in the apartment and they dance when the speakers play their song. _

_ The strings and percussion come back in, and the sound is almost dizzying in its intensity; this love is something neither have experienced like this before. _

_ It brings them both to new heights, each surpassing their own expectations.  _

_ And then a moment of reflection again, the piano alone. But this time, there is strength and beauty in it that wasn’t there before. _

 

* * *

 

As the last notes hang in the air, Yuuri found himself smiling, the corners of his lips lifting up against his will. He touched a fingertip to his eyes to find them wet, and Phichit wordlessly handed him a tissue. None of them laughed, only patted him on the back as he wiped away his tears and took a deep, shaky breath.

His friends were the best.

“Alright, now that the work part is over, it’s time for our  _ favouuurrriiteee  _ game!” Phichit cheered, dark eyes dancing in amusement. Emil even rolled his eyes and obliged with a drum roll. “It’s a piece difficulty showdown, ladies and gentlemen!”

All of them simultaneously groaned as Phichit launched into a blistering impromptu performance of [Paganini’s Caprice No. 24](https://soundcloud.com/jojmoi/hilary-hahn-paganini-caprice).

“Come  _ on!  _ Paganini is automatically cheating!” Yuuri shouted as he tried to drown out his friend with something that sounded like the beginning of [Liszt’s Rondo Fantastique](https://soundcloud.com/fr-d-ric-chopin/f-liszt-rondo-fantastique-el-contrabandista-by-valentina-lisitsa) but to no avail; he was laughing to hard to properly play, and Seung-gil only grinned viciously as he shoved Yuuri off the piano bench and started [Hungarian Rhapsody No.2](https://soundcloud.com/uclsound/ryo-fukaura-liszt-hungarian-rhapsody).

Sara yelled over the din, “Liszt also counts as automatic cheating!” even as she somehow managed to pull off some of [Tartini’s Sonata in G Minor](https://soundcloud.com/davidcgale/giuseppe-tartini-sonata-in-g-3) while laughing.

In the end, no one won, and Yuuri could only thank the gods that the soundproofing somehow held out enough to stop any possible noise complaints from the neighbours.

 

* * *

 

“Yuuri! I’m home!” Victor called, Makkachin dutifully padding in in front of him as he closed the door. 

“Welcome home! I’m in the music room!” Yuuri’s voice came faintly through the hall. 

As soon as Victor walked through the door, he noticed Yuuri sitting on the piano bench, facing him. Victor smiled and took a seat next to him.

“Hey.” He said, placing a soft kiss on Yuuri’s cheek. The other man smiled back.

“Hey. The others couldn’t stay for dinner, but they all said hello. We have the piece done, so…”

Yuuri pressed the button on the remote he had, and soft piano music drifted into the air.

Victor didn’t move a single inch, entranced by the song. It was exactly how he imagined, exactly what he wanted.

By the time the song ended, he was crying.

“Victor?” Yuuri said, voice gentle. He looked up to  see Yuuri silently handing him a tissue.

“Thank you,” Victor managed to whisper, and they both knew it was not just for the paper.

“Well, there’s one more thing.” Yuuri handed Victor a CD and a marker. “I think it’s only fitting that you name the song. Take a moment to think about it?”

Victor didn’t even hesitate. He took the marker, and with a decisive hand wrote on the CD the words that he had neglected for so long.

“I’ve already decided,” he said, and laced his fingers with Yuuri’s. “I’ve decided a long time ago.”

 

* * *

 

“For the last time Chris, I’m not going to let you listen to my free skate music! It’s supposed to be a surprise, a surprise do you hear me?” Victor said, pouting at the Swiss man.

Chris pouted back. “Oh my, such possessiveness. Is it a  _ sexy  _ song? Is that why you won’t let me hear it? My, I’ve never thought voyeurism was one of my kinks but I suppose I can give it a try…”

“The day I let you see Yuuri’s naked body is the day you’ll admit I’m better at sex than you are,” Victor teased, and Chris gasped, fake-offended.

“Victor,  _ how could you, _ ” he said tearfully, and laughed at his friend’s scandalized face. The man was adorable in love, and Chris felt privileged to see this side of his friend. 

He bid his goodbyes to Victor, and if Stéphane came in afterwards and hugged him from behind when he saw that look in Chris’s eyes, well. That’s between him and Stéphane.  

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PHICHIITTT IS HEREEEEEE
> 
> For all those of you who need further clarification:  
> Phichit and Yuuri studied in the same conservatory- Phichit as a violinist and Yuuri as a pianist. They meet two other violinists - Sara and Mickey - through symphony classes, and percussionist Emil from them. Seung-gil is that one friend who refuses to completely admit he's their friend; he is also a pianist, but has a heck lot of experience in recording music.
> 
> And I'm sorry about Chris but unrequited love is my jam and he has his mystery boyfriend, he'll be fine.
> 
> EDIT: Quick reminder that Chris's mystery boyfriend is named after Stéphane Lambiel in this fic.
> 
> Next chapter: The whole fam travels to the place with all the maple syrup, Victor finally gets to show off his short program to Yuuri, a living legend royally rips into a reporter at a press conference in savage fashion, and the name of the piece that so captivated Victor's heart is revealed.
> 
> The Drama! The Tension! The Horror! The Grand Prix Opening Event, Skate Canada!


	7. Answer 3: I will stay here,

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The whole fam travels to the place with all the maple syrup, Victor finally gets to show off his short program to Yuuri, a living legend royally rips into a reporter at a press conference in savage fashion, and the name of the piece that so captivated Victor's heart is revealed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: I've lost my chapter may I make an announcement on the PA  
> Worker: Of course.  
> Me, whispering into microphone: goodbye you little shit

“Victor? We’ve landed.” Yuuri shook his boyfriend’s shoulder. The man only grumbled and tried to turn over, but Yuuri had pulled up the window earlier and the bright light of a fall afternoon was streaming in the small porthole right onto Victor’s face.

“Yuuuuuri,” Victor groaned, hair mussed and yet he was still more put together than Yuuri was, somehow picture perfect after the twenty-hour flight from St. Petersburg to Vancouver. “Ten more minutes…”

“I know it’s like three in the morning in St. Petersburg, but Victor we have to get off,” Yuuri said, pulling at his boyfriend’s arm to get him up. “We’re at the front of the cabin, we gotta get off first. The sooner we can get to the hotel the sooner we can get some proper sleep.”

“Ugggggghhhhhhh,” Victor grumbled, hoisting himself up and groggily going to the overhead compartment to grab their carry-ons.

The walk through the airport to get the rest of their stuff and into the taxi was a sleep deprived, hazed out blur; Yuuri was sure that the two of them fell asleep in the back seat as soon as Yuuri handed the slip of paper with the address to the driver.

They pulled up to the hotel to encounter utter pandemonium.

 

* * *

 

“Victor! Look this way!”

“What is the precise nature of your relationship?”

“Yuuri Katsuki! Please tell us—”

“Oh god, I do _not_ want to deal with this right now,” Yuuri said, quietly. Victor internally agreed, but years of training had him plaster on a plastic smile and forge on, trying to shield Yuuri from the worst of the crowd.

Of course, they weren’t about to let them get away that easily. The reporters crowded all around them, a throng of noisy, flashing lights and shouting.

The hotel staff looked harried, and the poor woman working at the front desk apologized profusely; Victor waved her off and just adjusted his shades to block out the obnoxious lights.

Turning around, Victor suddenly found his blood _boiling_.

A reporter from some rag of a newspaper was leaning aggressively into Yuuri’s personal space, the pianist obviously uncomfortable. The man was incredibly rude, shoving his microphone into Yuuri’s face.

Victor walked over, shoulders tense, and when he heard the sleazy douchebag ask, “Tell our readers, what made Victor Nikiforov, the living legend, go after you instead of all the eligible women he has at his side?” and saw _red_.

"Let's get something straight," Victor smiled as he shoved in between the man and Yuuri, a knife-blade sharpness in his expression. "My theme for this season is _love._ It's something I've neglected for more than twenty years. This year, I have found something special—someone I want to stay close to and never never let go. What happens afterwards is life—mine and Yuuri's only. So you can go—"

"Vitya!" Yakov yelled from the other side of the hall, and Victor only grinned a little harder, making the reporter pale.

“And that’s my official statement. Good evening ladies and gentlemen and asshole.” Yuuri started pulling on the sleeve of his jacket, so Victor sent another vicious grin at the shocked crowd before letting himself be dragged into the elevator.

“What was that, Victor? I could have dealt with him myself.” Yuuri huffed, and Victor looked at the adorable angry flush behind his glasses and sighed.

“I know, but allow me. He was being a real asshole, and I just got a bit angry.” Victor put his arms around Yuuri, who eventually relaxed. “I promise I won’t do that again,” he said as the elevator door opened.

His boyfriend only laughed and pulled Victor into the hallway by his hands, exasperated with his dramatics. “If Yakov had a penny for every time you must have promised him that he’ll probably never need to work a day in his life ever again.”

“I’m pretty sure Yakov doesn’t work for the money anyway; according to him, no amount of money is enough to make up for dealing with the stress of coaching us.” Victor left his luggage in the tiny closet and instantly threw himself on one of the twin beds, bouncing a bit with his landing. He groaned as Yuuri bustled around, checking the bathroom and the view outside their window.

“Yuuri, sleep. No more. ‘M tired, come here.” Victor could only smile as Yuuri fought a yawn, eventually just giving in and crawling under the covers of the too-small bed, curling up against his body.

“We gotta push the beds together,” was the last thing Victor heard before he pulled the covers over them both and fell asleep.

 

* * *

 

They had decided to fly in a week early to Vancouver before Skate Canada truly kicked off, taking the opportunity to both see the sights and give Victor some time to recover from jetlag. Hand in hand, the two of them snuck out of the hotel in the early morning as soon as Victor managed to shake Yuuri awake, ditching Yakov and the reporters behind to walk around the city aimlessly.

Victor ended up over-excited and bought three boxes of maple leaf cream cookies, dragging Yuuri to sit out by the beach, listening the seagulls fly overhead. They sipped at the coffees Yuuri got from a small shop some distance away, watching people on their bikes walk their dogs in the fall morning, talking about whatever came to mind.

Before he even noticed, Yuuri’s fingers hit the bottom of the cookie box for the second time. He frowned at the empty cardboard container before staring in disbelief at the amount of crumbs on Victor’s face.

“Victor! We have to stop eating these, oh my god. We’ve already finished two boxes and you have a competition in a week!”

Victor pouted. “Okay, okay… I’ll stop eating them when you stop.”

“Alright.”

A moment of silence. Then came a quiet _riiiiip_ , like someone surreptitiously opening another cookie box.

“...You just opened another one, didn’t you.”

“I’m so sorry Yuuri but they’re just so good!”

“I thought we agreed to save enough boxes for souvenirs?!”

“Just one more, Yuuri! Minako won’t notice a cookie missing! I’ll buy her another box! Besides, I have the perfect metabolism so another cookie won’t affect me anyway!”

“Victor Nikiforov you put that cookie down right now!”

 

* * *

 

“I regret absolutely nothing,” Victor said, checking on his costume, “except for the fact that Yuuri isn’t here to do up my zipper for me. I mean, I’m flexible enough to grab it on my own, but it’s just so much better if Yuuri could do it for me.”

He looked up from his bag to see the rest of the skaters staring at him; Georgi was the only one who didn’t even bother paying attention, after being too desensitized to the constant gushing from Victor after months of the same.

Chris grinned, innuendo dripping from his every word. “Well, Victor. Any offers on...a little help? I mean, from what I’ve heard from Instagram it’s been a nice and... _active_ relationship between you and Yuuri. One would wonder if a man could get in on some of that.”

Minami Kenjirou, the Japanese representative, was fire-hydrant red in the corner, looking like he wanted to know everything and yet was too innocent to imagine it without looking like a tomato. His efforts to act somewhat nonchalantly could have worked if he wasn’t tripping over thin air every other step.

“Well, I for one am perfectly happy with my relationship with Isabella! How about you, Otabek? Find anyone special yet?” The Canadian skater laughed, clapping the Kazakh on the back. The dark-haired teenager’s expression didn’t change a single bit.

“No.” He said stoically, and walked away to prepare on his own.

“Well, while all of you are here, I’m going to sneak off to find my Yuuri! If my coach asks where I am just point him rinkside, I’ll catch up to him later!”

Chris yelled out, “Remember to use protection! And lube is important!”

Victor laughed and ran away amidst the sound of exasperated groans.

 

* * *

 

“Victor, you’re heavy.” Yuuri complained as soon as he tackle-hugged him from the back, planting small kisses to the side of the pianist’s neck. “Get off!” He laughed, and Victor pouted against the small patch of shoulder where his lips could reach.

“But _Yuuuurrriiii_ ,” he grumbled, and Yuuri only laughed louder, one hand pushing on his boyfriend’s forehead. “Stop, Victor, Victor! That tickles!”

Here in this empty hallway backstage, Victor can muster up enough courage to say what he really wanted to Yuuri.

He leaned down, winding his arms around Yuuri’s shoulders. Victor’s never been called shy over anything, but just this simple movement made his heart race.

“Keep your eyes on me, Yuuri. This short program is as much a part of me and my past as your music is a part of my future, my love. It’s not a past I’m entirely happy about, but...”

There was suddenly no sound in that hallway; the hustle of the main venue was mostly blocked off, and all Victor could hear was the beating of his heart pounding in his ears.

And then, Yuuri’s fingers traced a path down Victor’s cheek.

“You are Victor to me—the Victor that nearly burned down his own kitchen, the Victor who signed all my posters, the Victor who blurts out stupid excuses when he panics—I _told_ you to leave the raccoon alone—”

“Yuuri, I am trying to have a crisis here.”

“Yes, yes, anyway. My point is, to me, you’re Victor. The Victor that came into my life, and shares a love so great with me that it takes my breath away. Past you’re proud of or not, you’re Victor. Now,” Yuuri turned to him, grinning. “Go out there and skate with no regrets; take a deep breath, and let go.”

Victor hugged Yuuri again, a laughing bubbling up his chest, lifting him up, up, _up_. “You always do know what to say to make me feel better.”

“How strange; you do too.”

 

* * *

 

 _“Representing Russia, Victor Nikiforov!”_ The announcer said to the wild cheering of the audience.

Victor smiled and waved to his fans, gliding into position on the ice. With a deep breath, he took his starting post, and waited.

_Go out there and skate with no regrets; take a deep breath, and let go._

As soon as the familiar strains of the [song](https://soundcloud.com/tainted-earth/10-moonlit-night-death-parade-ost-digest-edition-hayashi-yuki) started, Victor exhaled and pushed off.

 _He is young now, and he’s discovering the ice for the first time. It’s an innocent love, and Victor isn’t old enough to understand that the ice won’t ever love him back_ —

_He is younger now, hair still long enough to reach his back. His limbs are not completely his own yet, stretched by hormones, and still he strives to be the best, the most beautiful._

_The ice only favours those of beauty and strength, and Victor has plenty of both. He doesn’t care about bruises, sprains, injuries upon injuries_ — _they’re on his body but he doesn’t care. But the moments where he flies over the ice, those are the moments when he is himself._

_Victor fights his own body, his own mind and the ice; but the moments spent flying are too magnetic to draw his eyes away, and night after night he goes, fighting pain and the overwhelming loneliness that makes him bury his face into Makkachin’s fur in his cold room._

_It’s him, the ice, and finding strength in himself and only himself. It’s a selfish, painful love with something that won’t love him back, but there’s an emptiness in his chest that won’t go away and_ oh.

_Before he knows it, he’s cursed like the boy out of the Snow Queen, glass in his eyes and heart._

_And then_ — _and then_ —

 

Victor ended the short program there, and for a moment he stood there, on the ice, completely motionless in his final pose. The entire stadium is silent, for just a moment.

And then as the audience roared their approval, Victor looked up to search for the one person he really wanted to see at that very second.

Without fail, Yuuri was there; he was waving and jumping, and Victor laughed in that moment like he has never done with anyone else other than Yuuri, like he was flying across the ice again.

He took first place.

 

* * *

 

That night, in the two beds they’ve pushed together, Yuuri huffed a little and hugged Victor a little closer to himself.

“You are the biggest idiot on the face of this planet,” he said, and Victor can hear the teary smile on his voice. “How long will it take to fully sink in that you’re not alone?”

He turned in to face Yuuri, and whispered back, “Forever. So stay close to me, and remind me. Give me as much time as you can, and never let me go.”

 

* * *

 

“Welcome, ladies and gentlemen, to the Men’s Free Program here at Skate Canada International!” Hisashi Morooka said energetically into his microphone. “Joining me is Taihei Kato-san from TV Asahi, who has been following the proceedings quite closely. We’ve seen some absolutely phenomenal performances here today, haven’t we?”

“We have! So far we’ve had quite a few wonderful programs worthy of note—Otabek Altin of Kazakhstan has just wowed the crowds here in Vancouver with his _Symphony No. 9, 2nd Movement "Advent"_ free program.”

“Indeed! Not to mention Christophe Giacometti of Switzerland has also delivered quite an electric performance of his own, despite some technical errors. And of course, the two everyone has been talking about all evening! Canada’s very own Jean-Jacques Leroy has taken first place after his free program, _Partizan Hope_. The home-ground advantage is certainly showing, isn’t it?”

“It sure is; listen to that crowd! But if Leroy wants to win gold here he still has one heck of a hurdle to clear; taking the ice now is five-time Grand Prix gold medalist and Olympian, Victor Nikiforov. He is in first place after his spectacular short program, _Moonlit Night_ , absolutely blew the judges away yesterday. It’s going to be tough to beat Nikiforov with a program of this technical difficulty.”

“And what a program it is! Nikiforov has planned four quads of three different kinds here, with the last jump of the program a quad. Do you think he has the stamina for it?”

“It certainly is a question, isn’t it? Nikiforov is twenty-seven, and we’ll have to wait and see if he still has enough energy to land these jumps. Sources have said that this program will have quite a different composition than what he usually has for his programs, so I believe we’ll be looking forward to quite a few surprises. Victor Nikiforov is skating to _[On Life, Love, ICE](https://soundcloud.com/ku-choque/yuri-on-ice-4fs)_ , an original composition by Yuuri Katsuki.”

“And here he is, starting off strong with a beautiful quad-toeloop-double-toeloop combination; nice and crisp. Great height, too.”

“Beautiful transition into the next element.”

“Quad salchow! Wonderful form, as usual. As expected from a skater as accomplished as he is.”

“Triple loop. Solid landing.”

“Breathtaking choreographic sequence. We’re heading into the second half of the program now. And...triple axel! Again, wonderful height. No sign of fatigue from Nikiforov yet.”

“...A quad toeloop here? That’s a change. Is he planning to switch out a jump later?”

“Here comes another combination jump: triple axel-single loop-triple salchow. Again, very solid. And yet another! Triple lutz-triple loop. This is absolutely insane!”

“And another step sequence! You can really feel the energy and love put into this performance. Quite astounding!”

“And here is the last planned jump of the program, a quad toelo—”

“—it’s a quad flip! He’s touched down with his hand, but a quad flip at the very end of his program when fatigue would be the absolute highest! Nikiforov has _never_ done this before!”

“Did you see that, Morooka-san? Did you _see_ that?”

“I saw it with my own eyes, but even I’m having a hard time believing it! Love wins here tonight, at Skate Canada! What a performance!”

“Listen to the crowd—absolutely electrified! A breathtaking performance from Victor Nikiforov that exceeded all our expectations, and it looks like even his own!”

“Ah, he’s skating to the edge of the boards, where Yuuri Katsuki, his composer and reported boyfriend, is waiting at the kiss and cry—!!!!”

“Oh my. Well, after that, it’s sure not just reported anymore, is it Morooka-san?”

“Love is undoubtedly winning here tonight. And the scores— _220.97?! 220.97! What a score!_ ”

“And with this, Victor Nikiforov takes gold here at Skate Canada!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alrighty, I'm making up shit and scores as I go along, so don't maul me for the fucked up points pls
> 
> Haaaa, Victor you lovesick dork now its not just instagram rumours anymore.
> 
> Also I hate myself for fitting in the raccoon "i'm having an affair" joke lol  
> MAPLE CREAM COOKIES ARE THE SHIT YOU CAN NEVER HAVE JUST ONE


	8. Answer 4: Together with you.」

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The end game: a proposal, a performance, and a _performance_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> knock knock, get the door, it's a new chapter
> 
> (my humor is impeccable ctrl+alt+del's got nothin on me
> 
> N O T H I N G)
> 
> HERE JUST TAKE THIS
> 
> This chapter quality is kinda meh, but I'll get back to it. Maybe. Eh.

“It sounds like the whole world is rooting for you and Yurio out there, Victor.” Yuuri said, listening to the wild cheering of the crowd out in the stadium.

“Of course they are; we’re in Russia. I’m actually surprised that they didn’t cheer down the roof but then again, I wonder that anew every time I compete in the Rostelecom Cup.” Victor replied, shivering slightly as Yuuri’s gentle hands tugged gently the zipper up his back. “Mmhph. They’re really going all out for Yurio right now.”

“Yurio sure is going all out too, isn’t he?” Yuuri said, an indulgent tone in his voice. “He’s grown so much.”

Victor thought back to Yurio, still with a horrible bowl cut, small and blond and already fierce, wringing a promise out of him to choreograph the program he was skating at this very moment. He couldn’t resist the urge to laugh.

“Remind me to show you photos of Yurio when he was still in Juniors; he had the most precious haircut and eyes back then, it’s a treasure.”

“I’ll hold you to that. I don’t think he’ll be quite happy with you showing me, but, well. I’d be crazy to pass on something like that.” Yuuri said, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “If he ever finds out, the two of us will end up as pirozhki filling.”

“Nooooo! As much I do like to eat you darling, I don’t think that’s quite how I want to do it.”

“ _Victor! We are in_ public!”

“But it’s perfectly true though…”

“Oh god, I’m in love with such an embarrassing dork. I would like get off this ride!” Yuuri scoldingly laughed, brushing Victor’s bangs out of his face. He smiled, and Victor traced the lines of his brown eyes in the flourescent lighting backstage, still dumbstruck after all this time.

“It’s been crazy, being in love with you; you never cease to surprise me. Every second with you is something new. I’ve competed in Russia so many times now, and you somehow make it seem like I’m stepping on the ice for the first time again.”

Yuuri took him by the hand, tiptoeing upwards to plant a kiss on Victor’s forehead, like a benediction. “I promise to keep watching you. Go out there, skate your story. Our story. And I’ll promise you this much— when you make it to Barcelona, I’ll be right there with you in more ways than one; in other words, a surprise.”

“That’s quite a promise. You know how much I love surprises. Now I’m curious…won’t you give me a hint?”

“I promise it’s something you’ll like. But first, you have to go out there and qualify for Barcelona.”

“ _Yuuuuuri_ , you’re so cruel! And such a tease. I need a bit more than that!”

“Nuh uh, not listening!”

“ _Yuuuuuriiii!_ ”

 

* * *

 

“Competition sure is stiff this year at the Rostelecom Cup, isn’t it Morooka-san?”

“Indeed it is, Kato-san. We have quite a lineup of skaters assigned here in Moscow this season and the tension is almost palpable; there are quite a few contenders for the Grand Prix Final looking to clinch their qualification tonight. Eyes are on the prize this year for sure.”

“The competitors are taking the ice now for warmup; everyone looks quite energetic tonight.”

“Oh, and it looks like Yuri Plisetsky and Victor Nikiforov of Russia are both engaging in a little affectionate rough-housing…”

“The hair-pulling is a little extreme, but Nikiforov looks to be laughing, so I’m sure they’re fine. Their coach doesn’t look happy.”

“Must be quite a stressful job for Yakov Feltsman to ride herd on such high-profile skaters. Victor Nikiforov is a favourite to win the Grand Prix again this year; in fact, it’ll be quite a shock if he doesn’t at least end up on the podium.”

“Yuri Plisetsky is no slouch either; the uncontested champion of the Junior Grand Prix for the last three years, he is looking to replace Nikiforov as Russian National Champion.”

 

* * *

 

“ _Representing Russia: Yuri Plisetsky!”_

“I told you not to provoke him, Victor.”

“Okay, okay, you were right....yikes, my roots are still sore.”

“Serves you right.”

“Yuuri, you’re so mean to me!”

“Yes, now hush. Yurio’s starting!”

 

* * *

 

“No unbeautiful words, Yuri Plisetsky! Strength is nothing without beauty. Now go out there and show the world your rebirth.” Lilia said, and Yuri almost wanted to snarl that he was not filled with strength or beauty but instead with overwhelming rage, but that was sure to get a reprimand from the strict prima. He wisely chose to take a deep breath from the very bottom of his lungs and nod, pushing his way to position in the center of the ice.

He’ll show them. He’ll show them all.

 

* * *

 

“A wonderful performance! Definitely improved from his showing at Skate America. He’s certainly tightened up his step sequences! Let’s see if that was enough to get him a spot on the podium.”

 

* * *

 

“I’M GOING TO STRANGLE JJ!” Yuri roared backstage even as the crowd went crazy outside for the Canadian skater, the blond’s hands making clutching motions like he was imagining wrapping his fingers around the man’s throat.

“There, there, Yurio…” Yuuri said, hands up and clearly trying to calm the teen down. “I’m sure...he’s a perfectly nice man. Deep down. Somewhere.”

“No! He is the bane of my existence! He did this to me twice! First the short program and now the free? I put my back into that performance and he just—ARRGGGHHHH!”

“Well, that’s good.” Yuuri said without missing a single beat. Yuri turned wide, disbelieving eyes onto the pianist.

“Haaaah? That’s _good?_ How can that be good?”

“If you’re angry, that means you still care, still want to perfect your performance. Imperfections keep us going, Yurio. Look,” Yuuri smiled. “I am nowhere near a flawless performer. If you’ve ever seen videos of me at competitions—and trust me, there are videos floating somewhere out on the internet— I’ve been surpassed by so many people just after my performances. It burns you, right here.” Yuuri touched a hand to his chest, smiling at Yuri. “But that fire makes you want to do better, play everything cleaner, surpass yourself. You can’t get there by yourself, sometimes.”

Silence. Then, a very quietly murmured, “Thanks.”

“Of course.”

Jean-Jacques finished his program to the screams and cheers of his legion of fangirls, kissing the ice after he broke his final pose. The man had every right to be proud; his program was incredibly challenging, and he had just pulled off a flawless performance. Yuri _knew_ all of this, and yet he still found the man horribly obnoxious.

“ _On the ice, representing Russia, Victor Nikiforov!”_

Yuri watched Victor skate out onto the ice, the overhead lights shining onto the man’s costume.

The blond skater had watched hours upon hours of video about Victor, recording every minute of every performance, every style of costume, and every emotion that passed through the man’s eyes. But Yuri has never seen Victor like this before.

Every single time out on the ice, Victor proved why he deserved the titles he held, proved why people still couldn’t take their eyes off him. He proved it time and again, showing off his brilliant artistry, his impeccable technical skill, his ability to convey overwhelming emotion in movements alone.

 _Alone_ was certainly the key word here.

Victor was victorious ( _ha_ ) every time, but alone. He was strong and beautiful and alone, and it showed in his skating.

The Victor on the ice was not that person.

Oh, he still had strength and beauty in plenty of supply, but he didn’t skate like he was alone anymore.

Victor moved like he was making music with his body, and the music sounded like it was molding to him instead of the other way around. It was finally an equal partnership, instead of Victor alone on the ice, and it _showed_.

Yuri...Yuri wanted that. Yuri wanted to _win_ , to skate like that.

“Hey, pig—Yuuri,” he said, as Victor launched into the quad flip that still wasn’t quite clean, stumbling a little with the landing, “Yuuri. Can—can you compose a piece for me next season?”

Yuri tensed, waiting for the rejection.

“Of course,” Yuuri said, as casually as he had reassured him about JJ just a few minutes ago. “Did you think I would refuse, Yurio?” The man smiled at him, and Yuri would deny to the end of his days that he smiled back at the piggy.

“Whatever,” he muttered, and watched in a sort of schadenfreude as Victor handed JJ his ass on a platter.

So at least that was something to be happy about.

 

* * *

 

The press conference was certainly not lacking in JJ Style, much to Yuri’s eternal rage.

Victor sat front and center, as the winner of the gold medal (yet again), JJ and Yuri flanking him as the winners of silver and bronze, respectively. Victor, being so close to the two, could hear the grinding of teeth periodically.

The reporters were noticeably less obnoxious this time around, probably having learnt their lesson earlier in the season with Victor’s outburst in Canada. They stuck to the standard questions as they interviewed the others, safe ones like “How does it feel to score so well just after moving out of the Juniors bracket?” and “What are your plans for next season?”

Yuri only gritted his teeth and gave non-committal answers, resisting the urge to throttle the man two seats away from him.

Finally, the vultures were done with JJ and his obnoxiously cheerful personality, and turned to Victor.

The first reporter smiled and asked, right out of the gate, the question that would turn the conference right on its head.

“So, Mr. Nikiforov. What is your plan for the Grand Prix Final? Any surprises up your sleeve?”

Victor didn’t speak for a moment, and the room roused itself a little, muttering over the uncharacteristic pause.

“My plan for the Grand Prix Final, huh?” He said softly, and smiled into the flashing lights of the cameras. “Well, I will have to train up my stamina a little more for my free program, improve so that I can make all my jumps cleanly. It’s not perfect yet, and I want to deliver the best performance for the Final. My last Grand Prix Final.”

It took everyone in the room a second to process that last statement.

And then, utter pandemonium as the press room _exploded_ , reporters shouting over each other as the camera flashbulbs went off like there was no tomorrow.

Being the overdramatic shit he was, Victor grinned charmingly for the cameras, said “No more questions,” and left Yuri and JJ to the wolves.

 

* * *

 

Yuuri was waiting out in the hallway for him, scrolling through his twitter feed. He looked up and smiled in surprise as he saw Victor.

“Already done? I thought your interview was still going on.”

“I’m skipping it.” Without a second thought, Victor took Yuuri’s hand, calloused from hours upon hours of practice, and pulled him towards the exit.

“What— _Victor!_ Are you sure this is okay? Hey, where are we going?”

“Away!” Victor burst into laughter as he pulled Yuuri level with him, the two of them breaking into a sprint. They passed by many people who did double takes, rubbing their eyes as if to make sure they weren’t dreaming.

They took a taxi, the driver giving Victor a strange look as he pulled Yuuri into the cab, both of them breathless from running. Victor was still wearing his Team Russia jacket underneath the thick coat he had hastily thrown on, and Yuuri was in an ugly quilted parka that Victor may or may not have tried to burn some time ago, but neither of them cared.

“Wait, Victor, where _are_ we going?” Yuuri said once he caught his breath. “You just ditched an interview! Yakov is going to kill you!”

“I know! And I don’t care!”

“Victor!”

 

* * *

 

After a few minutes of navigating through Moscow traffic, they pulled up to the GUM skating rink, Yuuri gasping at the red lights and all the people on the ice. Victor paid the cab driver, ushering Yuuri out of the car before the man could recognize him and ask him for an autograph.

Victor had enough presence of mind to grab his own skates from the venue but Yuuri of course didn’t, so the two of them rented a pair from the girl at the desk, who gave a hard stare at Victor’s face but stayed silent.

Unsurprisingly, the skating rink was packed with people, lots of families and couples out on beat-up rental skates. In that crowd, nobody really gave the two of them a second glance.

The two of them skated in circles, hand in hand still. “These skates are really—” Yuuri managed to say before he stumbled as his blades hit a rough patch on the ice, scratched up from countless other people digging their toepicks in, and toppled right into Victor’s arms.

Yuuri’s body was wonderfully warm and real against his, and immediately he dipped Yuuri into a spin.

Against the bright lights, Yuuri’s eyes sparkled like stars. Victor couldn’t help but to stare, and thought to himself, _I could get used to this. But I never will; Yuuri will make me cherish him anew each day._

 

* * *

 

So. Victor was going to Barcelona, to the Grand Prix Final.

One more time. One last time. And, he was certain, the best time.

 

* * *

 

The first thing Victor did after arriving at Barcelona was going to the outdoor pool for a swim in the middle of winter, which as a Russian was part of his national pastime. He floated in the pool, looking up into the dark Barcelona skies.

He shivered and sneezed in the water, but puffed out his chest and steeled himself.

“I thought, other than me, no one else besides a Russian would be crazy enough to swim in the middle of the night in winter, but here you are.” Chris’s familiar voice came from above him, and Victor grinned.

“Chris!”

“Hey, Victor. How are you doing?” The Swiss man said, flirtatiously. “Where’s Yuuri?”

“He’s still being a sleeping beauty up in my hotel room. Yuuri is surprisingly bad with jetlag! He was nowhere this bad when we went to Canada, but then he’s always been a night owl; Barcelona is just enough to throw him off. I mean, Yuuri usually has no problem staying up till super late to work but as soon as he hit the bed here he fell asleep and I just didn’t have the heart to wake him up!”

Chris stared at him as Victor rambled on and on about Yuuri, looking at him like he had somehow grown a second head.

“You’ve changed, Victor.” he commented quietly, eyes contemplative. “Meeting Yuuri has changed you. You love him very much.”

Victor could feel his smile widening. “You’re right. Is it showing?”

“Yes, yes it is.” Chris smiled back. “Does he love you back?”

“He does. Is it showing? Yuuri gets so shy about that.”

“Yes. Yes, it does.” Chris said back, and if Victor noticed that his eyes grew a little wet, he could just blame it on the chlorine.

 

* * *

 

“Yuuri!” Victor wrapped his arms around the pianist’s shoulders, and Yuuri immediately complained about his cold skin on his neck. “Let’s go out today! I’m ditching Yakov again!”

“Victor, shouldn’t you get some rest? The short program is tomorrow.” Yuuri frowned at him, and Victor could almost physically feel Yakov’s disapproving eyes boring into his back. The skater pouted.

“Don’t be the model boyfriend now! My Yuuri, people are already saying you’ve stole me away from the skating world with your wiles.” Victor’s smile softened. “Take me out on a date; show them all.”

Yuuri looked at him with a playful glint in his eyes. “Oh? Is that right? I guess I have to live up to that, then.”

By the time Yakov caught up to where they were, the couple had already gone who knew where. The old man could have cried with frustration, but at this point he was too jaded by the two’s antics to even react; Josef Karpisek could only pat the man on the back in sympathy.

“At least your skater doesn’t post pole-dancing nudes.” he said, grimacing.

 

* * *

 

“I could have sworn I left them just there…” Yuuri said, panicked.

“Let’s call it a day, Yuuri. Aren’t you tired?” Victor forced a smile onto his face, ready and willing to just go back.

“No! But those nuts…”

“Well I’m tired. Let’s just go.”

The other man’s expression was annoyed, the corners of his mouth downturned. “Well, you didn’t have to say it like that!”

There was a silence, as tense as any time Victor left his dishes in the sink without washing them.

In the end, they ended up silently walking through Barcelona’s Christmas market, side by side. Victor watched Yuuri, watched his eyes sparkle like they did on that night in the Red Square, like they did on that rainy afternoon. He didn’t say anything, and the two of them just let the noise of the crowd wash over them.

The next thing he knew, he was in a jewelry shop and staring as Yuuri dug out his credit card.

 

Somewhere along the way, Victor must have done something right with his life.

The only thing he could focus on at that particular moment was Yuuri, cheeks flushed and eyes bright, looking down at his hand.

A gold ring glinted in the lights from the church behind them, sparkling on his finger. He watched with dazed eyes as Yuuri gently put the ring on his hand, his entire body shaking slightly.

“Um, h-here. I...I couldn’t think of anything better to give you, to encourage you for tomorrow.” Yuuri was so nervous that he couldn’t even meet his eyes, still staring at the ring. “S-so, please say something! You-you’re making me nervous here…”

“Yuuri,” Victor said, stemming the tide of stammering that was sure to come from his fiance (oh god, what a word!). “These months with you....there are no words for them. I think...I don’t need to say anything. I just want to stay close to you, and never let you go. That’s part of the reason why I decided to leave the ice for good this season— _let’s leave together. Now, I’m ready._ ”

He took the velvet box that he had been keeping in his pocket for the past three weeks and opened it, sliding the ring onto Yuuri’s hand with equally shaky fingers.

“ _Oh_ ,” Yuuri said, and there were tears coming down his cheeks. Victor reached up and brushed them away, smiling softly at him. “I have absolute faith in you, but are you _sure?_ With me?”

“Yuuri, I’ve been neglecting life and love for twenty years, and then you came along. Being with you is the greatest joy I have found, even if it means my slow death as a competitive skater.”

“But—with me? I’m chubby and ungraceful and…and—”

“You’re Yuuri. The Yuuri that came into my life, and shares a love so great with me that it takes my breath away. I’ll go out there tomorrow and skate with no regrets. So keep your eyes on me.”

Yuuri took a deep breath, and relaxed. “I promise.”

“Good! Now, is this the surprise you promised me in Moscow? If it is, then _wow_.”

“Oh don’t you try to weasel it out of me! You’ll know when it’s time for your exhibition.”

“But _Yuuuriii!_ ”

“Wow, would you look at the time. I’m famished! Let’s go get something to eat!”

 

* * *

 

“So you’re the Yuuri I’ve heard so much about!” Christophe Giacometti chuckled as he waved at the pianist. “You are much cuter in person.”

“Um,” Yuuri said, face flushing cutely. “H-hi?”

“Chris, he’s not used to you yet, tone it down a notch.” Stéphane admonished, slapping the Swiss skater on the arm.

“ _Yuuuuurrrriiiiii_ , why are you so red? Do you like Chris more than me? Is that _wwwhhhhyyyy?_ ” Victor fake-sobbed into Yuuri’s shoulder, dramatically throwing his arm over his eyes as his fiance rolled his eyes.

“I am so sorry about him,” Yuuri apologized to Stéphane, who looked just as harried as he was.

“I am so sorry about my idiot too.” The man muttered, looking at Chris exasperatedly.

“This atmosphere is so weird,” Leo de la Iglesia said to Yuri beside him, who grunted. Otabek Altin, on his other side, only shrugged. “I mean, that’s Victor! Victor Nikiforov!” The American said, his Instagram feed open. “Man, wait until Guang-Hong sees this.”

“Don’t worry about it. These people are all just idiots. They make me sick!” Yuri growled, and Victor leaned across the table to ruffle at his hair, making him yowl like an affronted cat.

“Awwwww, Yurio! You don’t mean that!” Yuri only redoubled his efforts to scratch out the man’s eyes, screeching all the while. Lilia would be disappointed, but then again she wasn’t here to witness Yuri’s fit of rage.

“Hey, what’s with the rings you two?” Chris asked out of the blue, his face set in a smirk. Yuri stopped his attempts to maul Victor.

“Rings? The fuck is up with that? You don’t wear jewelery.”

“They’re a pair!” Victor announced to all of them, and after a moment of silence Chris just damn near lit up.

“Congratulations on your engagement! When do I get to be best man?” He said smugly, and Yuri was going to lose it right then and there.

“You are not helping!” The blond skater hissed at the man, although he was still half occupied with his attempts to wrap his hands around Victor’s throat to stop his incessant giggling.

“Wow, this violence is getting R-rated…” Leo said, capturing the whole thing with his phone.

No one properly ate dinner that night, although not from the lack of trying; Yuri would deny until the end of time that he had tried to choke Victor with a plate of seafood paella to the face.

 

* * *

 

There was a wonderful energy in the air as the crowds flooded into the stands; everywhere Yuuri looked when he entered the venue there were posters and banners with all of the competitor’s faces on them.

“Are you ready?” He said to Victor, quietly. It was just the two of them backstage, the other skaters and event organizers keeping a respectful distance between the two.

Victor took Yuuri’s hand and laced their fingers together, touching his lips to the ring there.

“Of course.”

 

* * *

 

_My name is Victor Nikiforov. Once upon a time, I thought I could only gain new strength on the ice by myself._

 

* * *

 

“Victor Nikiforov has announced his retirement after this season, and this may very likely be his last performance here at the Grand Prix Finals. He is skating to the original composition _[On Life, Love, ICE](https://soundcloud.com/ku-choque/yuri-on-ice-4fs) _ by Yuuri Katsuki.”

“Nikiforov has said that he would like everyone to feel the emotion he injects into this performance, and stated that he is going to bring out everything he has to offer on the ice in this cumulation of his skating career. He has planned four quads of three types in this program, but Nikiforov has yet to skate a flawless run this season.”

“Little wonder; this program is already notorious for it’s immense technical difficulty and the incredible amount of stamina needed for it. There have been serious doubts for Nikiforov—the man is not young as an athlete—at twenty-seven, he is one of the veterans of the sport.”

“The first jump is a quad-toe-double-toe combination!”

 

* * *

 

_I’ve been neglecting life and love for twenty years; all that time felt like a cold moonlit night that passed me by without so much as a by-your-leave._

 

* * *

 

“Wonderfully executed. I’ve said this time and again, but Nikiforov does have the most beautiful form on his jumps.”

“Next up is the quadruple salchow.”

 

* * *

 

 _I’ve won and won and won, and people kept asking me, “What is your next move? How are you going to surprise us? What are you going to win_ **_next?_ ** **”**

_I was forging ahead in a dark desert, alone but for the dim light of my talent to guide me._

_It didn’t take long before I got tired. I was a champion, a legend, a pioneer of the sport, the art, yes_ — _but who on earth was I pioneering for?_

_Myself? No. By that time I had no idea why I was even there; I had lost my bearings in the sands._

 

_And then you came, Yuuri. You came into my life like a sudden downpour of rain._

_Oh, you have no idea how much I needed that!_

_Your music in that moment was...indescribably beautiful. It didn’t matter that you were playing on a slightly out-of-tune and scratched upright piano in an empty dance studio with horrible acoustics that muffled the sound._

_You played Stay Close to Me like an answer I had been searching for, on that rainy afternoon._

 

* * *

 

“A quad loop jump?! Kato-san, is he changing the elements instantaneously again?”

“It does seem that way, Morooka-san!”

 

* * *

 

 _And then, despite your shy demeanour, you just blurt out to me how your dog died_ — _don’t think I don’t know you named your dog after me!_ — _and show me a little of what I’d been missing. Without a second thought, I offer my home to you_ — _I wanted you close to me. I wanted to find out what you liked, who you were. And maybe find out who I was, too._

_I’ve never seen someone’s eyes sparkle like yours on that day you dragged me to the music store._

 

* * *

 

“We’re moving into the second half now, with a choreographic sequence. Nikiforov wasn’t kidding about the emotion in this performance.”

"His stamina still needs to hold out if he wants to perfect this program."

 

* * *

 

 _That rainy afternoon, on the couch_ — _it was the first time in so long that I found myself truly happy. I’ve just burnt half the food in the fridge, made the kitchen an absolute mess, and covered Makkachin in a layer of flour. Despite the trouble, you only laugh in exasperation and make the two of us katsudon._

_You really are quite something, Yuuri. You never cease to surprise and amaze me._

 

* * *

 

“A triple axel! Good height, as always.”

 

* * *

  

_You are the first person I ever really wanted to hold on to._

_Of course, there are people who say that staying with you would be the death of me. They’re right_ — _my heart is no longer solely dominated by the ice._

_They say that staying with you means my slow death as a figure skater._

_But here, right now, I have never been more alive!_

 

* * *

 

“Triple axel, single loop, triple salchow combination! Nikiforov is showing no signs of slowing at all!”

“Not a single mistake so far—Triple lutz-triple loop! What stamina!”

 

* * *

 

_So keep your eyes on me, Yuuri!_

_Let me show you, show them all, the time you spent with me was not a waste!_

_Look at me! This is the me that I have no regrets with!_

 

“And for the last jump of the program, Nikiforov’s signature move, a quad flip—!”

“He lands it cleanly! Ladies and gentlemen, this may be one of the most technically challenging programs ever skated here at the Grand Prix Finals, and Victor Nikiforov has just skated it perfectly!”

“A performance that will be remembered for years to come, here at the Grand Prix Final in Barcelona!”

 

* * *

 

“Yuuri!” Victor called, eyes bright and face flushed. For once, the gold medal around his neck didn’t feel like a collar. “Yuuri! Did you see that? Did you watch me?”

“All the way through, Victor. I kept my eyes on you.” Yuuri smiled. “You were music in motion out there on the ice.”

“Thanks to you, my Yuuri.” Victor wrapped his arms around his fiance, who huffed and hugged him back. “You are my life and love. Now, I _distinctly_ remember something about a surprise…”

“Nikiforov, so help me god, you’ll find out at the exhibition! You like it! Just trust me!”

“I don’t know, Yuuri...you said the same thing about natto…”

“Victor, that was _once_ , oh my god.”

 

The next night, Yuuri made some excuses about getting ready, and ditched Victor as soon as they got to the venue, which left Victor in a decidedly pouty mood.

“Hey, where’s the katsudon?” Yuri asked, fiddling with his exhibition costume. “I thought he’d be backstage here with you.”

“Nope! He said something about getting ready, but he assured me that he’ll definitely be here for the performance.” Victor said, internally still annoyed.

“Well, he better be.” The blond skater huffed as he waved to that skater from Kazakhstan.

“Awwww, does Yurio actually miss my Yuuri? You do care!” Victor laughed even as Yuri tried to yell over the sound of the announcer's voice booming out _“Otabek Altin, Men’s Singles Bronze Medalist!”_

“Get off me, you old geezer!” Yuri screeched, before quieting down. “...Thanks.”

“For what?” Victor asked, although he already knew.

“You know.” With that, Yuri shook off Victor’s arm to make his way to the ice, ready for his performance.

“Well, I’ll be.” Victor grinned. “He’s grown.”

 

* * *

 

Victor smiled and waved to the crowd going wild as he glided to the center of the ice. The lights were dimmed in the stands, so he doubted he could see Yuuri from where he was, but Victor felt better just knowing that Yuuri was in here with him.

He closed his eyes, and waited for the familiar recorded [song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zlZwriO-Itg) to start playing.

Instead, there came the gentle [strum of an acoustic guitar](http://www.vevo.com/watch/galileo-galilei/arashi-no-atode\(acoustic-session\)/JPU981502246), playing the same chords.

With a start, he looked up to see a spotlight on a small side stage, Yuuri at the microphone and his friend Emil on the drums, Seung-gil beside him with the guitar.

Yakov, in the meanwhile, was looking particularly smug at the side of the rink—Victor must remember to thank the man profusely for this. And possibly a case of the good vodka.

Yuuri met his eyes, and smiled. With his voice, the song about yearning under the rain turned into an answer, like it always does with Yuuri.

Victor smiled back, his heart thumping in his chest.

With a deep breath, he let go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ONLY THE EPILOGUE TO GO KIDSSSSSS
> 
> Next skate: Yurio makes a wonderful flower boy.
> 
> For those of us who can't understand Japanese: [here](http://www.lyrical-nonsense.com/lyrics/galileo-galilei/arashi-no-ato-de/) are the lyrics. Give them a read, I promise it's worth your time.


	9. Duet: Under the Rain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not the wedding we need, but the wedding we deserve.

“You guys sure picked a day to do this,” Yuuri’s no-nonsense sister Mari said as she looked up at the sky, poking her head out of the door to look up at the rain clouds overhead.

It was at first a beautifully temperate day in the sleepy seaside town of Hasetsu—well, sleepy but for the fact that dozens of figure skaters and musicians have flooded into the local onsen resort-inn, all friends of Yuuri and Victor.

They invaded the premises without so much as a by-your-leave, eating their food and making a general nuisance of themselves—if Yuuri and Victor did not love their friends as much as they did they would have been terribly cross, but they did love their friends and at least they cleaned up after themselves.

Well, marginally.

All of them were crammed in the largest banquet hall in Yutopia to avoid the rain; despite the room’s large size it was still a bit of a squeeze due to what amounted to the whole skating community and half the town of Hasetsu showing up. People spilled into the hallway, chatting and laughing. The atmosphere was warm and friendly, with Hiroko occasionally showing up to bring more food; even though Yuuri had tried to stop her she insisted.

“I am the proprietor of this inn! All guests must be taken care of, and I really don’t mind,” the plump woman said cheerfully as she opened up three more bottles of shochu. “It’s your special day, and there’s nothing in the world I would rather be doing than taking care of you and your friends! Just do me a favour and keep your father away from too much of the sake?”

“Of course, dear mother-in-law! It would be our pleasure!” Victor chimed in, beaming. Hiroko only laughed and slapped Victor’s tuxedo-clad arm.

“You charmer! We’re not quite in-laws yet. Call me that at the end of today and I’ll cry and then you can ask whatever you want of me.” She said before she went back down to the kitchen, presumably to grab more food to feed Yurio’s black hole of a stomach.

“Yuuri! I’m still mad at you!” Phichit yelled from his spot near the back of the hall; his phone had been working this entire time and now the Thai musician was camped around the electrical outlet, growling a little whenever someone tried to pull out his charger. “You didn’t let me take photos of the bachelor party! It is the solemn duty of your best friend and best man to take pictures of you as you strip drunk and you didn’t let me do it!”

“Phichit, if I had let you take photos they would have ended up on Instagram within the hour, and I do _not_ want my… misadventures while drunk to be immortalized on the internet.” Yuuri grimaced, glaring at his best friend.

Chris clutched at his own chest in a show of commiseration with his fellow best man. “Oh, and what adventures they were! Truly, it is a crime against humanity to hide the fact that Yuuri is so flexible, if only for Victor’s own... _personal_ records.” The Swiss skater winked as sultrily as he could manage at the pair, only grinning harder when Yuuri flushed and buried his crimson red face into Victor’s neck.

“STOP BEING NASTY!” Yuri yelled, his mouth full of food as he shovelled Hiroko’s delicious cooking down his gullet. Otabek beside him was eating at a much more sedate pace and nodded in silent agreement. Phichit only pouted. “You just don’t appreciate it! You see, when two people love each other very much they hoard photos—”

“I AM EIGHTEEN. YOU DO NOT NEED TO EXPLAIN NUDES TO ME.”

“Yurio? Do we need to talk?” Yuuri said, hesitantly, and the room went silent when both Yuri and Otabek averted their gazes from each other, faces and ears red.

“Oh my god,” Mila said, delighted. “ _Oh my god._ ”

“Nope! I’m staying out of this! No more!” Yuri growled, burying his face into a bowl of katsudon. Otabek stayed silent beside him, avoiding eye contact with anyone in the room.

“Okay, okay, okay! Everyone, everyone! No more grilling of Yuri and Otabek, they are adults, what they do is their business. There’s something I want to do now. I wanted to do this later, but since we’re all already here…” Yuuri said, nodding to Seung-gil who obligingly got his guitar from his room.

All of them got quiet, eyes intently on Yuuri, who adjusted his tie and blushed under the sudden scrutiny. With a few strums, the Korean nodded to Yuuri.

Yuuri took a deep breath, and started to [sing](https://josephfink.bandcamp.com/track/second-song).

 

“ _It may not be too long_

_And it may all come out wrong_

_But I wrote you a second song_

_Eventually,”_ he sang, his voice raw with emotion. The sound carried down the halls, and people perked up to listen.

 

“ _It may go out of tune_

_And it may end all too soon_

_But I wrote you a second song_

_Eventually,_

_Eventually…_ ”

 

JJ stopped talking to listen (for once), and Isabella leaned her head against her fiance’s shoulder. Chris took Stéphane’s hand, quietly. Even Mila, with her known avoidance of public displays of affection, hooked an arm around Sara’s waist despite Michele’s glare.

 

“ _Still kids when we met_

_We’re not kids anymore_

_We’ve set sail for time’s distant shore_

 

_I’m not afraid of aging_

_Not with you by my side_

_Life ain’t long but it is wide._ ”

 

Yuri sidled closer to Otabek, who smiled at him. Yuri frowned without any real anger and lightly punched him in the side.

“If you say a single word about me being sappy I will kill everything you love.” He whispered to the Kazakh, who just shook his head.

“Idiot. If you want to do that you’re going to have to jump off a bridge first.”

 

“ _So it may have a couple faults_

_But I wrote you this little waltz_

_Yes I wrote you a second song,_

_Eventually_

 

_And it still could fall apart_

_But at least it had a start_

_Cuz I wrote you a second song_

_Eventually_

_Eventually._ ”

 

His husband’s voice broke on the words and Minako, in the meantime, hadn’t stopped crying since Yuuri started the song, along with Yuuri’s childhood friend, Yuuko. Hiroko and Mari and Toshiya were all there and crying right with them, all of Yuuri’s family sitting close to each other and listening to his voice.

 

“ _Travel so much that_

_Nowhere feels like home_

_Cept the home that we’ve made in our bones_

 

_And you know that I know_

_That we know the way_

_Go hand in hand into each day_

 

_And from our bed without lifting our heads_

_Mountains and stars, drifting snow, no cars…”_

 

The rain outside strengthened, the heavens seemingly opening the floodgates and letting everything down, just as hard as that day Victor dodged into Minako’s dance studio to find Yuuri. The smell of petrichor filled the air through the open shoji doors, drifting throughout the banquet hall.

 

_“I don’t know what’s next_

_But know what is now_

_Take in all joy life allows_

 

_Took two years to write this_

_But just say the word_

_And tomorrow I’ll write you a third,”_

 

Victor closed his eyes, listening to the sound of rain pattering on the rooftop and Yuuri’s voice intertwining with the simple guitar accompaniment. He opened his eyes to meet smile at Yuuri, still singing. _His eyes are sparkling again_ , Victor noted, enamoured. _Oh, Yuuri._

 

_“It may come out all wrong_

_And it may not be too long_

_But I wrote you a second song_

_Eventually_

 

_It may go out of tune_

_And it’s gonna end really soon_

_But I wrote you a second song_

_Eventually,_

_Eventually_

 

_I don’t have song enough to say_

_You’ve changed my life in every way_

_But I wrote you a second song_

_Eventually,_

_Eventually…”_

 

There wasn’t a dry eye in the room when Yuuri finished the song; even the oh-so-stoic Mari was discretely wiping a tear away from her eyes.

Victor didn’t waste a single second. He swept Yuuri off his feet, his arms securely around him; his husband squeaked in surprise as Victor dipped Yuuri into the kiss.

“Victor!” Yuuri laughed, and Victor smiled back.

“You know, I’m never going to let you go after that, my Yuuri?” Yuuri smiled too, his lips turned upwards in the most beautiful thing Victor has ever seen.

“I know, Victor. So stay close to me, and I’ll write you music forever.”

“I don’t need that. Just listen to the rain with me for the rest of our lives, and I’ll be satisfied.”

“Hey! We’re still in the room, you two can stop being disgusting!” Yuri shouted over the sound of everyone else applauding and cheering.

With a mischievous grin, Victor turned back to Yuuri. “Oh, let’s give him something to complain about.”

“ _Victor,_ ” Yuuri sighed before being pulled into yet another kiss.

 _This is where I want to be, angry Yurio and all_ . Victor thought to himself even as Yuri complained loudly in background. _Now, there’s one more order of business…_

“Here, Yurio!” Victor called. “Catch!”

“What the fuc...OI! VICTOR! COME THE FUCK BACK HERE WITH THE KATSUDON! THE BOUQUET TOSS IS SUPPOSED TO BE RANDOM, YOU SHIT!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YALL ARE AMAZING. It's been a fun time working on this fic, and I'm absolutely blown away by your comments and kudos! I don't have the time to respond to every single one, but they make me smile every time. THANK YOU SO MUCHHH!!!!
> 
> EDIT: For those of you who listen to Night Vale, you know EXACTLY why I chose this song for the wedding ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)
> 
> Stay tuned for my next fic. It'll take me probably about a week, but according to my friends the fic made them feel emotions again so I think that's...good????
> 
> Again, thank you so much! Drop by my tumblr [here](http://copperpatina.tumblr.com/) for more victuuri goodness and to scream at me.

**Author's Note:**

> I am [here](http://copperpatina.tumblr.com/) on tumblr. You know the drill, come scream.  
> Imma die waiting for Weds, tbh.


End file.
